


Dark Corners

by Eva_Swan



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva_Swan/pseuds/Eva_Swan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever noticed how cats are always drawn to dark corners? Their eyes turn to coal and they dive deep into the darkness: under a bed, underneath sheets, in a half-opened closet. Matt Murdock felt pretty much the same about dark corners, except that he couldn't possibly know how dark they were... until he was too far gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shield

**Author's Note:**

> I am obsessed with this pairing and this show. Unfortunately, few fics about them are out there, so I decided to write one. I've already posted this on ff.net, but AO3 is such a cool website, I finally gave in. I hope you'll like it! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt hears Karen's screams and rushes to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is really short because it was meant to be a simple one-shot. The following chapters will all be about 3,000 words long.  
> This fic will feature other characters from the Daredevil comics. I really wanted to include elements from the comics, so there will be some surprises.  
> Some chapters will be written from Karen's perspective, Matt's or both, always in the 3rd person.

 

“No! Let me go, you bastard!”

Her voice reached his ears like a bolt of lightning: fast and without warning. He tried to focus on her voice, her panicked, raw voice, but the deafening beating of his own heart blurred her screams. Why the hell would she be in trouble? He had gotten rid of Fisk, he made sure of that. Oh, he wasn't stupid. Hell's Kitchen was still rotten, slowly eaten away by criminals of all kinds. It wasn't the safest place on earth. But it was _home_. And _she_ was family.

He took a deep breath and his feet led him to her. He jumped from roof to roof, his hands meeting brick and concrete. His lower jaw was lashed by the icy wind which whistled in his ears, but he only heard her voice. _He had to._

 “Easy girl, cooperate and I'll be gone in a minute...”

 He stopped and hid behind a wall. They were on the other side of it. He could hear his low, threatening and arrogant voice and her erratic breathing. He was about to leave his spot when he heard a sharp yet muffled sound: she had hit him.

 “You fucking bitch!” the man cried. He was hurt. And angry.

 He heard her getting on her feet and grabbing her purse, but she then fell heavily, face down. “All I wanted to do was steal your fucking money, but now I gotta show you you didn't damage anything down there!” She bit him, struggled, insulted him.

 He felt his blood boil underneath his flesh.

 When he heard the metallic sound of a zip, he burst out of his spot and jumped on the man's back, jerking him backwards away from her. He took his wrists and pressed them, hard, mumbling in his ears the things he'd do to him if he ever touched her or anyone else again. He could hear the blood pulsing through his heart, wild, loud, dark. He had the devil in him. It coursed through his veins, waiting to be unleashed. He had been on the edge countless times, wishing to kill but fearing to give in, willing to protect his city but reluctant to sacrifice his soul. He could kill for her, just like he could kill for Foggy. But he had to pick his battles, and tonight was not the night he played this card. Not for a scumbag who was shivering under his deathly embrace, visibly eager to take on his heels.

“Leave Hell's Kitchen. If I ever see you again, I'll rip your heart out. Got it?” The man nodded and was ready to run when he punched him in the face, twice. One to punish him for assaulting her and the other because it felt good. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had a reputation to uphold.

When the man was finally gone, she got up with difficulty. “I...” she began, unsure. “Are you my guardian angel or something?”

He smiled. He pictured himself as the Devil and she thought he was an angel. “If the kind of angel you believe in has horns and wears the color of hell and blood, then yeah, I guess so.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and started to laugh, but suddenly he heard tears rolling down her cheeks and shivers covering her skin. He opened his mouth, unsure, but she didn't let him the chance to talk: “I'm sorry I- I keep saying I don't need saving, and I hit that bastard in the balls, but I- the truth is, I- I would be dead without you. They would've found my corpse in a dumpster or whatever. I can't... I can't... I did it once, I can't do it again... Maybe I'll have to someday but... The guilt, the sleepless nights... It's so dark... I...”

He didn't understand what she meant. But then again, he knew she was hiding something from him. He could hear the lies because he listened to them, and that night at the office, when he had asked her if something had happened, she hadn't told him the whole story. “The world fell apart.” He could still hear her broken voice flying in the air, so fragile, ready to crash and burn.

All of a sudden, she fell on her knees and began to sob. Thunder was roaring a few miles away and rain was on its way. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't. Right now, he wasn't his friend. He was Daredevil. And he couldn't let her know that. He couldn't put her in danger. This city made sure of that well enough on its own.

“Call your friends, the lawyers. They'll help you.” He turned around and began to walk away when her voice stopped him in his tracks. “Wait!” She got up and dried her tears with the back of her right hand. “Angel or devil, thank you.” He smiled, walked on, and gradually faded away in the dead of the night.

He ran, jumped, climbed as fast as he could, in case she called him. She did. “Karen?” He said, out of breath but trying to hide it with all his might. “Is everything OK?” He heard her took a deep breath. “No, it's not. Can I... Can I come over?” He told her to call a cab and hung up his cell phone quickly. He still had a few blocks to go before getting home.

A few minutes after he arrived, light knocks resonated on the wood of his door. He opened it and immediately invited her in.

“What happened?” he asked while closing the door.

She looked down and bit her lip. She didn't know what to answer. She was hesitating. “I... I was assaulted. Few blocks from here. I was simply going home from Foggy's place and a random guy tried to steal my money. I hit him where it hurts and then he tried to rape me, but 'Daredevil' or whatever they call him came in and saved the day. And here I am, soaked to the bone, ashamed and terrified as shit.”

He was genuinely surprised. He didn't think she'd tell him the truth right away. She was secretive, keeping what hurt to herself. Why the truth?

“You knew I was lying the first time I stayed here,” she said as if she had heard his thoughts, “so I figured I should simply tell you the truth this time.” She sighed and shook her head. “I'm sick of the lies.”

He nodded. “Why didn't you call Foggy?” he asked, thinking: _Why did you call_ me _?_

“Foggy would've felt guilty because he wanted to walk me home.” She sat on his couch and buried her face in her hands. “And I... I feel safe with you. I don't know why, I just do.”

His lips wanted to smile but his heart leapt in his throat. He sat next to her and took her hand. “I told you I would protect you Karen,” he softly said, “and I swear to God I'll do all I can to keep that promise.”

She sighed and simply said in a smile: “I know.”

He could hear her smile. He could smell her fear. But he couldn't see her. He would do anything just to see her face for a few seconds. How he wanted to dive deep into her eyes and see the depths of her soul. It was superficial of him. After all, she _was_ beautiful to him. Beautiful to hear, beautiful to breathe in, beautiful to talk to, to be around. Her looks didn't matter. But he wanted to finally put a face on her voice, he was dying to know the color of her eyes and the shades of her hair.

“Karen?” he asked.

“Yes, Matt?” she answered.

“Can I touch your face?”

She seemed surprised and embarrassed, taken aback by his request. Her heart hammered against her chest, faster and faster.

“I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he added right away, “I just think it's about time I knew what you look like.” He flashed her a charming smile. “I can't have a stranger as a secretary in my prestigious firm, can I?”

She burst out laughing and seemed to calm down a bit. “Yes boss,” she quipped, “you can touch my face.”

Slowly, he brought his hands to her cheeks and brushed her cheekbones with his fingertips, almost shyly. He focused on the sensation of her skin against his own and the curves of her face. His fingers traveled from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose, then framed her eyes and even felt the rapid flight of her lashes. He explored her eyebrows, her temples, and caressed the crown of her hair. It was straight and silky. Then, he hovered her lips and withdrew when he felt her hot breath licking his fingertips. “Sorry, that was a bit intruding,” he gulped.

Karen laughed, visibly amused by his prudishness. “Yeah, that was something. I can add 'received the blind's touch' to the long list of my qualifications.”

It was now Matt's turn to burst out into a heartfelt laugh, the feeling of her breath still printed on his flesh.

“So... what do I look like?” Karen inquired.

“Beautiful,” he let out.

She stiffened and he knew he shouldn't have said that, not now, not when she had just been attacked. What was he thinking? Plus, it wasn't the right time for him either. He knew he had feelings for Karen, but he couldn't quite define them. She was family, but she was definitely not a sister. He was strangely drawn to her but she was still a friend. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, he couldn't play the lovers, let alone Prince Charming. He was dangerous, and even though he had decided he would not shut down Foggy and Karen because he couldn't do it alone, it didn't mean getting involved in any other way. He had seen as much as a blind man can see how it turned out with Claire. “You should get some sleep,” he said as he got up from the couch, “you can borrow a shirt from my closet.”

“Like last time,” she noticed. “That's a sad tradition.”

It was, and a part of him wished she'd borrow his shirt for some other reason, the one he tried to keep in one of the dark corners of his mind.

He arranged his bed for her - well, as much as he could - and sat on the couch. He heard the rustling of the fabric against her skin and knew she was undressing. Tomorrow, his shirt would carry her smell and he would smell it for weeks, no matter how many times he would wash it. Perks or disadvantage of getting shady chemicals in your eyes. “Don't run away this time,” he told her as she lay down on his bed.

“I will never run away from you Matt,” she said in a low voice, certain he wouldn't hear her.

But he did.

  


	2. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen's night at Matt's, her nightmares, and some nice talk.

**_"The mind is a universe and can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."_ **

** John Milton **

  
  


Have you ever noticed how cats are always drawn to dark corners? Their eyes turn to coal and they dive deep into the darkness: under a bed, underneath sheets, in a half-opened closet. Matt Murdock felt pretty much the same about dark corners, except that he couldn't possibly know how dark they were... until he was too far gone.

This is what happened that night.

She was sleeping in his bed, and he could hear the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was probably dreaming of something bearable, which was a change from what he had gathered.  __ "The guilt, the sleepless nights... It's so dark..." _ _  Her words pierced through his memory and his heart clenched. What was she talking about? What did she feel so guilty about? He hated to know she suffered in silence. But then again, he couldn't blame her for keeping secrets. He, of all people, was a walking secret. A secretive devil. Still, knowing that she was keeping something so dark from him made him feel useless. He wanted to protect Hell's Kitchen and its people and he did so, every night, relentlessly. But what was he doing all of this for if he couldn't protect the ones he cared about the most?

He hadn't known Karen for long, but ever since the night he fought for her under the pouring rain, he knew he would dedicate his life to keep her safe. What he did __ __ not  _ _ know then was that he would come to care for her. She had become family, she was the one who had brought him a balloon with a monkey on it, and while he was battered and bruised, he had managed to smile for a split second. She made him happy, the sound of her voice soothed him. And feeling her presence in his apartment that night reassured him more than she could ever guess. She felt safe around him, but he felt at peace around her.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the soothing darkness of his eyelids, tired of thinking. Everyone thought he was blind, and he was, but many people figure that blindness is either black or white. Colors or the void. Truth be told, Matt's blindness was anything but red. He saw flames, fire, hot waves of ocher washing over the world. He could make out some lines if he focused enough, but no details. Sometimes he wished he was faced with the darkness of sleep, the blackness of death.

It would be so much more relaxing.

* * *

Karen focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Inhaling.

Exhaling.

Inhaling.

Exhaling.

Long, spaced out breaths.

She tried to lull herself to sleep, thinking about nice things that were or could be, but Morpheus was avoiding her. Had she been a believer, she would have thought God was punishing her for what she did. She felt like Sisyphus or Prometheus, doomed to only touch sleep without ever being able to sink into it. How she wanted to picture herself on a beach or in a cabin in the mountains, far from the maddening crowd, surrounded by nature and simple things. How she wanted to see something else than those giant buildings that hid the sun and cast darkness in the avenues. How she'd give anything to be back to Vermont and see its stretches of trees again, despite all the pain she had endured there.

When she did fall asleep, she always had the same dream: she was standing in the middle of a field of poppies, the sun blending in her golden locks, her lips parted in a calm, genuine smile. But then the poppies melted and turned to blood, the sun scorched her skin and she went up in flames. First, she smelled the sickening odor of her own body starting to burn. Then, she could feel the fire licking her flesh and the agonizing pain shaking her entire being. Finally, when it was too much to handle, she opened her mouth to scream and then she woke up, sweating and panting and sobbing in her bed. She didn't want to do that tonight. She didn't want Matt to see her like that. She didn't want to be the girl who needed saving, being part of the kind of scenes you see in TV shows where the guy wakes up the girl, tells her it was only a nightmare and holds her in his arms. She didn't need saving. Daredevil took care of that part and she loved him for saving her ass and she hated that she had needed his help twice already.

No, all she needed was  __ forgiveness _ _ _ . _

She had come to think that her burning nightmare was her personal hell, the blood at her feet being Wesley's. She had killed a man, she couldn't possibly get away with that. She didn't believe in God the Almighty and his armada of angels but she did believe in karma to some extent. Somehow, you get what you deserve. But what if she deserved that fire?

She sighed and moved onto her back, her eyes, wide open, facing the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" she heard a voice from afar.

She sighed again.  __ Busted _ _ _ , _ she thought.  _ How the hell can a blind man be so clairvoyant? _  "No," she simply answered.

She heard him move but she remained still. She closed her eyes and gulped, trying to calm down, but suddenly the mattress was sinking under his weight and he was lying at her side. "Can't seem to sleep either," he let out.

Silence came invading the space between them but it wasn't intimidating. It simply felt right. Karen could feel her heart beat like a wild animal in her chest, but it wasn't out of fear. When she first met him, he was only a lawyer. A newbie with a dazzling smile and bad ass glasses. She never would have guessed she could have grown fond of him. Who was she trying to fool,  __ she definitely had a crush on him _ _ . But she kept it for herself, like a teenage girl who's afraid to let the one she likes know that yeah, she finds him handsome and would like to give it a shot. She was no longer a teenager but she felt so unworthy of him. The man lying next to her was dedicating his life to saving people, he had invested in a small, independent firm to be able to help the ones left behind by the system. He was Justice when she was a murderer. And even before that, he hadn't really shown any romantic interest for her, so why make things more complicated when she could simply enjoy his company? At the moment, they were  __ lying together in the same bed _ _ . That was progress.

"When did you last sleep through the night?" he suddenly asked her.

She shook her head at the thought. "Too long ago."

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Karen bit her lower lip. "Yes," she admitted.

"With me?"

"No," she abruptly replied. She felt him tense beside her. "Not yet," she softly added. It was a non-truth, not really a lie. She  __ wanted _ _ _ _ to tell him about Wesley but she was so afraid of what he would think of her afterward. And don't tell her he couldn't  __ see  _ _ her differently anyway and that she wouldn't have to fear the  __ look _ _ _ _ in his eyes, because even though he was blind, she felt as if he could see right through her. Disappointment, even disgust would be written all over his face. She would see it at his lips and jaw. She hadn't known him for long, but she knew how to read him. She had stared at his face many times, much more than she cared to admit.

"I just don't want it to burn you from the inside," he said.

Fire. Heat. He had no idea. But she found it cruelly funny that he would use the image of fire to describe her condition. "What if I'm already burning?" she asked. "What if there's a fire, a devil in me that I can't contain? What if I was meant to crash and burn?"

She kept her eyes locked on the ceiling but she felt him turn his head towards her. She did the same and faced him, his eyes almost glowing in the dark.

"It's the criminals, the people who fail this city who should burn, and they will," he calmly replied. "You deserve salvation Karen. No matter what you think you did wrong, it's nothing compared to what they do to Hell's Kitchen." He took her hand into his and pressed it gently. "There's no devil in you Karen. Only a terrified part of you who tends to forget how strong you actually are. You've been through so much and here you are, alive, ready to register thousands of clients for the best avocados in town."

She looked away and giggled, laughing away the tears. When her eyes met his face again, she could have sworn he was staring at her mouth, as if to make out her smile.

"In short," he added, "you needn't worry about your soul Karen. You've saved more people than you know."

She pulled her hand from his and scoffed. "Did I? Elena and Ben are dead because of me, and..." She stopped, reminding herself she couldn't possibly tell him.

"Why would you say that?" Matt asked. " __ Fisk _ _  is responsible for their deaths, not you."

"I couldn't save them, that's pretty much the same isn't it? And I dragged Ben into this mess, I-"

"He made his own choice. He knew what he was getting into." He sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I just wish you saw yourself as I see you."

"Like a dark screen?" she deadpanned.

He grinned and shook his head, facing her again. "Like a decent, honest, kind person. Even though making fun of the blind man is not really the kindest thing to do."

She smiled and couldn't resist the urge to touch his face. Her hand cupped his cheek on its own, and when she realized it, it was too late. She let the warmth and the roughness of his cheek sink in, printing itself on her palm. "You're an angel, Matt Murdock," she beamed, "are you even aware of that?"

He simply smirked and rested his hand on hers, gently pulling it to his chest. "I'm no angel. I'm just a lawyer."

"No, you're a good man, and I'm glad you took my case when I thought the whole world had given up on me."

Matt tightened his embrace so much that he could feel her veins thump underneath his fingers. He reassured himself thinking that he could feel it because his sense were heightened, not because he was hurting her. He would never do that. "I won't ever give up on you Karen," he said. "Neither will Foggy. So please, don't give up on yourself."

Karen frowned and opened her mouth to answer him, but the words died on her lips. Then he loosened his grip and left the bed and she heard him lying on the couch. She turned towards the ceiling and pondered upon his words. She was not one to give up. So, that night, under the sky of Matt's apartment, she decided she wouldn't give up on herself. It was going to be a long road, but she was tough. And with Matt at her side, she feared nothing.

Not even the hellfire of her nights.

 

 


	3. The Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Matt spend the morning together at his place and head to the office. Foggy's already there, of course, and a stranger shows up, asking for the lawyers' help. But maybe she's not exactly a stranger...

_**"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."** _

**William Shakespeare, _The Tempest,_  I,2.**

 

 

Karen awoke to the feeling of the sun on the tip of her nose. Its warmth made its way down her soul, lifting the corners of her mouth in a delighted smile. She opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings, not so sure as to where she was.

Matt's place.

Matt's  _bed_.

Of course. The aggression, Daredevil, the night at Matt's apartment, their rather  _intimate_  conversation. It all fell into place. And then, the strangest feeling invaded her groggy being: it felt so damn good. Awaking in his bed, the far-off sound of his breathing, the light pouring through the window, it was as if it were all meant to be. Or maybe it felt only right in her head.  _That obsession with him is becoming creepy Karen, snap out of it_ , she thought.

She got up and yawned, already missing the softness of the silk sheets. Her eyes roamed the apartment, from the kitchen to the couch on which Matt was still sleeping. The morning light covered his shape like a blanket of gold, chasing away the shadows off his face. He looked so peaceful, his head resting on one of his hands, his chest gently falling and rising like half notes dancing on the lines of a sheet music. She was tip toeing in his direction when she was suddenly stopped in her tracks by an unexpected vision: in front of the window, bathed in the gray light of the morning, stood a balloon.  _With a monkey on it_.

"He kept it," she whispered with surprise.

She approached and touched it lightly, drawing the contours of the proud monkey stretching on the surface. She couldn't believe what lied before her eyes. It's not like he could  _see_  it. Why would he keep something he could not see whenever he felt like it? That was the point of a souvenir, something you can take in your hands from time to time to remember a person or a moment by. That stupid balloon was of no use to Matt, she even felt ridiculous for offering it to him in the first place. What was she thinking? She stared at the monkey and his silly, mocking smile. "Stop making fun of me you stupid monkey!" she scolded with a pout.

"Be nice to it, I like it," she heard. Matt's eyes were still closed but he was smirking.

She shook her head, ashamed he heard her, and sat on the armrest of the couch at his feet. "Really, you  _like_  it?" she scoffed, thinking about a hundred reasons why he shouldn't. "You don't even know what it looks like."

The smirk turned into an offended grin and his eyes shot open. "I know what a monkey looks like, thank you very much," he replied, closing his eyes again and folding his arms across his chest.

Karen tilted her head to the side. "I'm sorry, it was stupid to-"

He drew in a breath and sat up straight. "Can you pass me my glasses, please? They're about a few inches from you on your left, on the coffee table."

Karen frowned at the precision of his demand. The glasses were indeed resting next to her on the coffee table, as good as gold. But the hurt in the pit of her stomach was more stinging than his odd behavior. She wished he wouldn't be so adamant about wearing his glasses around her. He didn't need to. And the simple fact that he wasn't willing to drop the mask proved he didn't trust her completely, and that's what hurt the most. She wondered whether he'd forget those dark Harry Potter glasses around anyone else, but she shook off the thought, feeling that jealousy or whatever it was was starting to hover her like a vulture. She just figured they had taken another step last night, that they were past this.

"Karen? Is everything okay?" he asked, confused.

She bit her lower lip and carefully grabbed his glasses before handing them to him. "Yeah, sorry I- hum, here."

Matt grinned, as if he had foreseen her reaction. "Are you  _handing_  them to me?"

Karen closed her eyes and winced, massaging her temple with her left hand. "Jesus Fucking Chri-" she let out before remembering she was sitting next to a fervent Catholic. This day was definitely starting off just fine. "Sorry," she said while putting the glasses into his hand.

"About what? Blasphemy?" Matt replied, his eyes now concealed by two circles of dark glass. She loathed seeing her own reflection into his artificial eyes.

"For being a good-for-nothing," she replied in a sigh.

A lingering silence fell between them. Matt moved a bit so as to face her, his face looking grave and infinitely benevolent. "Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I have no use for any object Karen," he softly said, before adding mischievously: "A blind man needs his gifts like any other man." A weak smile broke across her face. He felt its warmth radiating on his own face, and wanted nothing more than to increase its intensity. "What, you think people offer me canes for Christmas?"

She burst out laughing. "You sure need canes, you keep losing them," she replied between two giggles.

Matt flashed her an irresistible smile. "I'm clumsy, I can't help it. That's what makes me so adorable."

"And modest, " Karen scoffed.

" _And_  modest," he conceded. He stayed silent for a moment, searching for a way to make her feel better about herself. The words came out of his mouth so naturally it surprised him. He reassured himself by thinking that, after all, he  _was_  a lawyer. But deep down, he knew there was more to it. "I kept it," he began, "because  _you_ gave it to me when I felt so miserable. It helps to know it's there even though I can't actually see it. It means I'm not alone."

Karen's eyes were locked on her reflection in his glasses. She tried to see past it, she wished she could go through the looking glass and dive deep into his pupils of golden copper. But she couldn't. Here he was, stripping his soul bare, but keeping his usual mask on. She knew it'd take time to get him rid of his armor, but she was there to stay anyway. If only he knew she felt so terribly alone too before she knew him and Foggy. "Of course you're not alone Matt," she replied, resting her hand on the back of his. "We've been there already."

"I know, I know," he answered, the warmth of her embrace emerging from the memory of this moment. He covered her hand with his other one. "Still, it's  _proof_  that somebody cared enough to pick a balloon with a  _monkey_ on it. It's proof  _you_  care."

Karen's face reflected her current state of mind: she didn't know how to react to his words. Her mouth was half-open, her tongue willing to deliver the words her soul craved to let out, but her head refused to cooperate. After all they'd been through, he still doubted her affection. And he had Foggy. Why would a man who was so loved feel so utterly forsaken? "Do you really need proof?" she finally asked, still startled and touched.

An old friend-foe's words came to his mind.

" _Do you have friends? People you care about?"_

" _Yeah, Two."_

He ran his tongue over his upper lip. "Foggy and you, you're all I have."

Karen shyly smiled, both out of emotion and skepticism. "Really? A handsome man like you with no one else? No... girlfriend?"  _Yeah Karen. Go ahead. Now is the perfect time to inquire about his love-life._

Matt sighed and smiled. "I'm not the womanizer Foggy seems to think I am." He laughed and recalled his friend's countless comments about him getting all the girls thanks to the "blind thing." "He's just jealous," he added in a whisper.

Karen stared at him, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. "Thanks."

"For what?"

She looked down at her feet. "For keeping my stupid gift," she admitted. "It's proof you care that I care. And, believe it or not, it means a lot to me."

And the truth is, he cared about her more than  _he_  even knew.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, Matt and Karen walked in the office door, joking about the sharp and childish scream Matt had let out when he burnt the tip of his tongue with Karen's coffee. "I didn't know you had this in you, Mr. Murdock!" Karen cheered.

Matt didn't even answer, the giggles in his throat refusing to let him speak.

Karen closed the door and took off her cloak while Matt disappeared into the other room. Foggy, hearing all the agitation, joined them. "Hey you!" he beamed, his eyes as glowing as ever. He was like a summer morning, radiant, warm, never failing at making you happy. Karen was pretty sure he was born smiling, and she laughed at the thought.

"Did you head home safely last night?" he asked her. "You forgot to text me!"

Karen tried to keep her countenance, but as always, she failed miserably. "I, hum- yeah sure."

Foggy frowned. "No, you don't seem so sure..." He scanned her face, his lawyer-mode full on. "Karen?"

"I did," she tried once more, remembering her theater classes. "I've got a pepper spray with me anyway, remember?"

Foggy pouted at the evocation of the night Karen had come to call "the stalker-night." He, indeed, had saved her from those bastards who were waiting for her when she left Elena's apartment, but she was pretty sure she could have handled it. Truth be told, Foggy knew that, but when Karen's safety was at stake, he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. He was about to deliver an inspiring speech about security and his role as a lawyer when Matt came in. "And a guy with horns watching over her," the latter added knowingly.

"Oh, if the devil's your guardian angel, you needn't worry!" Foggy deadpanned. "Maybe he could keep me posted and tell me when bad stuff happens to you, I don't know?"

Matt flashed him a cocky smile. "He has other fish to fry."

"And I have a bat in the back of my car in case he doesn't want to cooperate," Foggy said, a huge grin appearing on his face.

"Wow guys, could you tone it down?" Karen intervened. "It's not like he could hear you anyway."

The two friends gulped and cleared their throats in unison, earning a confused look from Karen. "She's right," Matt finally said. "That guy doesn't care one bit about us, Foggy. He just... he just does his thing."

"He does it too well," Foggy sighed. "No sign of clients on the horizon."

"Are you complaining?" Karen scoffed.

"Of course I am! I gotta pay my rent. And my fancy suits. And my drinks."

The three of them laughed heartily, and Matt wished all his mornings would start this way, with Karen walking him to the office and Foggy being his wonderful self.

Three knocks at the door broke their carefree laughter and they stood still, as if time had frozen. Foggy frowned, Karen's body stiffened, Matt cocked his head. They definitely needed more clients, they couldn't keep on being that surprised at people coming to see them.

Matt focused on the the person on the other side of the door: she, for it was a she, smelled like some kind of sweet smoke, carrying notes of spice and sugar, something hard and something tender. For some reason, he couldn't exactly put a name on her odor, it was the strangest thing his nose had ever smelled.

"Karen? Can you please open the door?" Foggy asked, standing straight and straightening his tie.

Karen nodded and put her hand on the door knob. Something kept urging her to lock the door instead. It was like voices were whirling around in her head, their whispers turning to screams as she slowly opened the door. She held her breath.

A woman appeared, all smile and charm. She was rather tall and slender, her red hair cascading like waves of fire on her shoulders. Her eyes were big and dark as a moonless night, so dark you almost couldn't distinguish the pupil from the iris. Her lips were full and red like a field of poppies, her teeth white as snow. She was beautiful.

"Hi, hum, are you the lawyers?" she inquired, looking unsure.

"It depends on who's asking," Matt replied very seriously.

Foggy rolled his eyes and edged closer to her, shaking her hand. "What he means is yes, yes we  _are_  lawyers and we accept all good-hearted clients who seek justice."

She smiled back at him and shook his hand with determination and gratitude. "Good to know I'm in the right place, you picked a rather original location. I'm Lorelei Boese."

Karen froze at those sounds. Pictures from the past, a past she had tried so hard to lock in one of the dark corners of her mind, emerged from the mist and materialized into the woman standing in front of her. "Lorelei?" she said.

The woman tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows arched in a pensive and focused way. "Wait, Karen?" she finally said, visibly surprised. " _Karen Page_? What the devil are you doing here hon'?"

Karen gave her an unrelenting stare. "I could ask you the same question."

A smile dangled on the corners of Lorelei's red lips and she turned her head to Foggy. "I am a good-hearted client who seeks justice."

Foggy nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I definitely like her."

Matt hadn't said a word, the electricity flying between Karen and the new comer intriguing him. Lorelei's heartbeats were steady, her voice assured. She wasn't faking anything. And yet, the deafening sound of Karen's erratic breathing allowed him to understand she was not exactly pleased with this reunion. He needed to hear more. "Hold on, you two know each other?" he asked Karen.

"Sure," Lorelei immediately replied, "we were in high school together back in Vermont. Oh it was such a great time. I didn't know you had moved to New York, I thought you wanted to try your luck in Los Angeles?"

Karen's body stiffened at the question. "I changed my mind."  _Act normal_ , she thought, her head trying hard to tame her heart.

"Of course you did," Lorelei let out in a smile. "California is so overrated anyway. It's only oranges and sunshine."

Feeling Karen's uneasiness, Foggy figured it was about time they got into the legal stuff. "How can we help you Miss Boese?" he asked, urging her to follow him into the other room.

She did so and sat at the table, her hands joined before her. "I'm not exactly sure as to how I'm supposed to bring this but... I'm actually a friend of Marci's and she told me to deal with you two."

Foggy stared at her with cow eyes. "Wait, Marci... Marci?"

Lorelei scoffed. "Yeah, the girl you slept with a week ago and never called back."

"I-"

"She likes it. A _lot_ ," she reassured him. "Anyway," she sighed, "I'm here because I was a victim of assault."

She paused for a while, the emotion visibly still strong. "I'm sorry Miss Boese," Foggy softly said, "but we are going to need more information."

She nodded and lifted her chin. "I've been working at Landman and Zack for three years now," she began. "I'm a secretary there. About a few months ago I noticed this man visited the firm a lot, almost everyday. He never said the name of who he was working for, I've always found that very odd. Only the lawyers knew it, it's like he never said it in public." Matt inhaled a sharp breath. This could only mean one thing: the man she was talking about was working for Fisk. "One day," she continued, "I was just fetching paper in the storehouse when I heard the door getting opened. I turned round and that guy was here, on the threshold, a huge smile on is face. I was so surprised I didn't even think to panic, and he simply told me: 'Be more careful next time. A beautiful woman like you shouldn't walk on her own at night. You should take the subway.' And then he left."

"Excuse me Miss Boese-" Matt intervened.

The woman smiled. "You can call me Lorelei."

"Miss Boese," Matt insisted, "I fail to see your point here, you mentioned an assault..."

"The night before," she added, "I had walked home at night, on my own, and I had felt the presence of... someone. He was clearly referring to  _that_  night."

"I'm sorry," Matt went on, "but we need more elements to build a case. We need more than a hunch."

Lorelei sighed heavily. "I'm getting there. The week after that, I was walking home after work and there was this black car parked in the alley. I didn't know why, I just felt like I shouldn't be there. Suddenly, I heard a scream, it came from inside that car. I picked up the pace and I saw that same man getting out of the car. He spotted me, that same... chilling smile all over his face, and he walked towards me." Silence lingered for while, nerve-racking and full of her fear.

Foggy took her hand. "What happened after that Lorelei?"

"He... Hum, he told me I should've listened to him. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and before I understood what was going on his hand was on my mouth. He tried to  _stifle_  me. I struggled and I heard the car door shooting open. He loosened his grip a bit and I kicked his chest with my elbow. He winced and let go of me so I ran away. I understood that when he had told me to be more careful that day at the office, it was because this car was parked at the  _exact_  same spot the night before. I hadn't paid attention to it but it was there, I know it. He didn't do anything the first time because nothing particular had happened. But that night, I had heard something. I was a  _witness_  working at a law firm. I had become a threat."

Matt had been listening to her heartbeats all along, looking for a loophole, the proof of a lie. He hadn't found any. However, despite her apparent sincerity, something was off. He felt there was more to it, more to come. Her story had something to do with Fisk, it couldn't be simple. "Do you happen to know his name?" he asked, still skeptic.

"Yes," she answered, peering into his glasses. "His name is James Wesley."


	4. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorelei explains what happened with Wesley. Karen is not exactly thrilled by this reunion and Matt feels it.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. A hundred, a million, it didn't even sound like heartbeats anymore. It sounded like a thousand drums beating in unison at the dawn of a battle.

Karen's chest was about to explode under the pressure of her own blood pumping through her arteries. Her heart was literally beating in her throat.  _James Wesley_? It couldn't be. She had to be mistaken. Lorelei was not about to focus her friends' attention, the  _world_ 's attention on the  _man she had shot_. No. It couldn't be. No.

Wesley's face suddenly flashed before her eyes. His look as Death wrapped him up in its lethal blanket of cold chilled her to the bone. She had not forgotten it. You can't forget the look of a half-dead man as you take the life away from him. You just learn to live with it. You live with the guilt, the self-loathing, the denial, the terror. You learn to cope with the countless nightmares, with the uncontrollable sobs choking you every morning. But you do not forget. Sometimes, Karen wished she had shot herself. At least she would've been rid of the pain. She wouldn't smell the copper on her hands day after day, she wouldn't see the thick blood under her finger nails. She never had much self-respect anyway.

As far as she could remember, she had always hated herself. When she was a teenager, she hated her translucent skin and her blond hair. She thought she looked like a ghost, a draught no one cared about. Only recently had she learned to appreciate her body, or at least to be on cordial terms with it. But she had always suffered of this ghostly burden. She had never been popular, she had never dated much. And the one time she did... Let's say things ended badly. Very, very badly. And Lorelei was aware of that. She knew everything. And now this ghost from her past had uttered the name of the man she had sent to the grave. This couldn't get any worse. Unless Matt and Foggy decided to take on the case and look for Wesley. Karen gulped at the thought. She tried to regain her composure, but her heart refused to cooperate, its wild heartbeats casting shadows before her eyes. She needed some air. She needed to calm down. She needed to confess her sins. She needed atonement.

She needed a reason to live on and fight.

One day, at the office, Matt had noticed her uneasiness. He was quite perceptive for a blind guy. She hadn't said a word, she was trying so hard no to let it show. After Fisk was taken down by Daredevil, Matt had told her he knew she was still hurting. Her sorrow hadn't vanished with Fisk's arrest. She had answered him that this wouldn't bring Elena and Ben back from the dead, and that it wouldn't erase the things they'd done. Somehow, it hadn't been enough for Mr Murdock. Once in the office, he had told her his secret to get some sleep and chase away the nightmares, as if he had noticed the dark circles under her eyes:

_"Just think of happy thoughts."_

_Karen had chuckled. "That's a quote from Peter Fucking Pan."_

_"And? Be grateful I didn't quote Thurgood Marshall," he had answered, a huge grin all over his face. "Really though," he had continued more seriously, "that's what I do. I just... I just lie down and think of something nice. Whether it be memories or things I make up in my mind. Funny, isn't it? The only time I get to see is when I close my eyes."_

_She had given him a sad smile, perfectly aware he wouldn't see it. She wondered whether he had tried to picture her. "What's your favorite thing to think about?" she had asked._

_He had looked down, lost in thoughts. "It's actually a quote I keep telling myself when I'm feeling down. It's... It's from the Bible. Corinthians 1, 13:13. 'If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.'"  
She had pondered on his words, wondering why he had chosen this particular verse. What it truly meant for him. But she hadn't dug any deeper. He was a good man, plain and simple. "And does it work?" she had inquired._

_He had shrugged. "Sometimes."_

She closed her eyes as the scene unfolded under her eyelids. The voices in her head kept chanting the verse.

 

_If I give away all I have..._

Breathe in.

_... and if I deliver up my body to be burned..._

Breathe out.

_...but have not love..._

Breathe in.

_...I gain nothing._

 

**Open your eyes.**

 

* * *

 

His ears were filled with loud, thundering thumps. You know, like when your head aches and you can hear your own blood pounding. Except it wasn't his.

It was Karen's.

It was  _her_  heart that was throbbing in his head, echoing in his body, penetrating his soul. He couldn't hear anything else. It was like his head refused to let go of the sound of her heart. Why had it started to race when Miss Boese had mentioned Wesley? Could it be... No, Karen couldn't be aware of that. He had never talked about him in front of her. But her panic as the words had left Lorelei's tongue was not a coincidence. Something serious was going on, and he was hellbent on finding out the truth, more out of worry than curiosity.

"James Wesley?" he repeated. "Are you sure Miss Boese?"

"100% sure," she answered. "I heard someone call him Mr Wesley once and then I asked around. That's his name."

Weird. When Matt had first met him, he hadn't wanted to tell him his name. Confederated Global Investments, he had said, was the only name that was relevant to the conversation. And he would let people call him "Mr Wesley" in public, at  _Landmann and Zack_?

"And you want to press charges," Foggy added.

Lorelei scoffed. "If I wanna press charges? Hell yeah! The man tried to  _kill_ me. Am I supposed to let him get away with it?"

"That's not..." he pursed his lips and winced. "Lorelei, you have every right to press charges, and you should. The bastard should pay for his crimes, working for Wilson Fisk being one of them. But if we do that, it means we're going after a  _shark_. Not a goldfish, a f-... a  _shark_."

Lorelei leaned over the table, closing the space between them. "Isn't it what you're supposed to do, you lawyers? Go after the sharks and cut off their fucking fins?"

Matt smiled. "It's exactly what we're supposed to do Miss Boese," he said. "We'll help you."

She turned her head in his direction. "Thank you."

Karen had remained silent. He was surprised she wasn't excited by any of this. After all, she had been very adamant about going after Fisk, so why not this time? Matt moved a bit and put his face close to her.

"Karen?" he asked in a whisper, his mouth so close to her that he could feel the goosebumps on her skin as his breath tickled her ear.

"Uh?" she replied.

"Are you feeling okay?" He sighed. Why did he feel like it was the only thing he asked her these days?

She gave him a weak smile. He could tell by the slight sound of the corners of her lips lifting with difficulty. "I'm fine Matt," she told him. "I'm gonna make some coffee for your guys."

She got up and left the room all too quickly. He hated to feel so powerless. What was the point of saving her as Daredevil if he couldn't help her as Matt? Plain, old Matt? Lorelei's voice broke him from his tormented thoughts.

"So, how are we going to proceed?" she asked.

Foggy opened his notebook and started writing. "Well, first we've got to get a hold of Mr Wesley."

Matt stood up. "I'll leave you two to it for a couple of minutes, if you'll excuse me."

Foggy frowned. "Where are you going?" he inquired, surprised.

"Bathroom, if you really want to know about this kind of details," Matt answered with a cocky smile.

"Thanks, but no thanks." He laughed. "So, Lorelei..."

 

* * *

 

Matt walked to the kitchen, a strange feeling taking its quarters in the pit of his stomach. Apprehension? Curiosity? He couldn't put a name on it. But it was strange.

He followed the sound of Karen's heartbeats until they were louder than ever. They were now more spaced, less erratic, but still strong. She was only just beginning to calm down. Suddenly, the pace accelerated again, and he could tell it was due to his presence. She was surprised.

"I'm sorry, I uh... I'm usually more... quick."

He leaned against the counter. "I'm not there to complain about the coffee, Karen."

"What are you here to complain about then?"

His eyes narrowed. "Nothing." She was tense, icy cold. "I don't like being lied to, Karen."  _Rich coming from a professional liar, Daredevil_ , he thought as the words came out of his mouth. "And I think you've been lying to me for a while now. I never said anything, but now I need to know: what are you not telling me?"

She turned her back to him. "Nothing you need to know."

" _Nothing I need to know_?" he repeated, loudly. "Dammit Karen, we're supposed to be a team, you said that, so stop acting like a child and..."

"I don't wanna talk about it, OKAY?" she snapped. "I'm not 'acting like a child,' I'm acting like an _adult_  who doesn't want to share and splash her own shit over the ones around her. Can you  _please_  respect that?"

There was something about her voice. Something broken, and yet so rugged. Wild. Distrustful.  _Fearsome_. "I'm sorry, Karen," she said in a sigh. "I'm not... You have the right to have your own secrets. I have mine. I can't cast the first stone. But... It's killing me to know that something's burning you from the inside, and I'm here and I can't do anything about it. I hate seeing...  _feeling_  you going up in flames."

She turned around and faced him, tears threatening to overflow. He could smell the salt on her skin. "I don't want the fire to spread and turn everything that's good in my life into ashes," she let out.

"And what's that?" he asked, hoping for words he shouldn't.

"You," she replied, her voice now fragile like porcelain. His heart sank as the words made their way to his ears, gently warming his entire being. He tried to fight the warmth, the way her revelation made him feel out of this world, but he couldn't. "And Foggy," she added quickly. " _Both_  of you are all I have. I'd like to keep it that way."

He cleared his throat. It was his turn to hide something from her. "Does it have anything to do with your friend?" he asked.

"She's not my friend," she muttered. "She hasn't been in a while."

"Still, you seemed to be really uncomfortable back there."

He focused on the beating of her heart, still pounding like a stud of wild horses. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips trembled. Shivers coursed through her body.

"I just..." she began, trying hard to hide her anxiety, "Ben had told me about this James Wesley. It was... It was the day before he died. The last time I saw him. When Lorelei mentioned that guy... It brought back memories I'd rather keep buried."

Her affection for Ben made it difficult for Matt to say whether her behavior had something to do with this memory or Lorelei. Either way, he wished he could help her. More than anything else. He came near her, his hand reaching for hers on its own. "I'm so sorry, Karen."

She laced her fingers through his. Her touch was like fire and ice. He was grateful he was the one with weird powers in the room. He didn't want her to know. To know what? He couldn't even say.

"You don't have to," she softly answered.

"But I am." He gulped and tightened his grip. "I want you to promise me something."

She laughed lightly, holding back a sob. "I will never mention your childish laugh ever again."

The corners of his mouth lifted, and he covered both their hands with his other one. "Promise me to always tell me when you need help," he said. He knew she could take care of herself, but every once in a while, everyone deserves to have someone to help them carry their burden. He wished someone would help him carry his own.

She lifted her hand to his face, daintily brushing over his temple. "I promise."

And it was like he could see the sun again.

 

* * *

 

Foggy waltzed into room, followed by Lorelei. "Everything's alright in here?" he asked, as happy as ever.

Matt answered him without turning away from Karen's face, as if he were peering deep into her eyes. "Yeah," he calmly said. "Everything's fine."

Foggy coughed, not really understanding what was exactly going on here. They hadn't been making coffee and did he even go to the bathroom? He pointed out to the door with his thumb, perfectly aware he wouldn't see but just because he felt like it. "Matt, we have to fill some paper work and decide on our strategy..."

Matt turned his head to him. "Lead the way."

They left the room and Karen bit her lower lip, not really thrilled at the idea of being alone with her former friend.

"They're very sweet," Lorelei said in a smile.

Karen's eyes were still fixed on the door they had just walked through. "Yeah. Yeah, they really are."

"But do you think you deserve all of this though?"

Karen narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. Of course, it was all coming down to this. She had been waiting for this confrontation since the moment she got in the office, and even before that. "Is this why you chose this firm?" she asked. "To throw the light on the things I've done?"

Lorelei grinned and shook her head. "No Kare. Granted, I do know all your dirty little secrets. I know you have blood on your hands. I know the  _real_ you, unlike them. If they did, I doubt they'd be so good to you."

Karen crossed her arms over her chest, the grip on her arm threatening to bruise her skin. "You may know me, but you don't know them. They would never..."

"Karen, you didn't rob a candy. How would righteous, decent lawyers react if they knew you had shot...  _two_  persons now?"

"How do you..." Karen scoffed, her hands now resting on her hips. "Did you even get assaulted?"

Her old friend nodded. "Oh, I did. I'm not the one lying here, Karen. I really was assaulted by Wesley. Thanks for your dedication though, he had it coming."

"They're gonna find out he's missing. They're gonna dig deep. They'll learn the truth sooner or later. And then you have the nerve to tell me you're not here to ruin my life?"

Lorelei simply smiled. Anyone else than Karen would've thought it was a sincere smile. Foggy seemed to believe it. But Karen knew better.

"I'm really not," Lorelei replied. She took a few steps in Karen's direction, dangerously invading her personal space. "You're doing just fine on your own," she lowly added. "I guess I'll see you around."

She flashed her a last chilling smile and Karen heard her say goodbye to her friends. She then walked through the office door, and Karen felt sobs burning the back of her eyes. She clenched her fists until her nails were digging into her palms, blood starting to spring from the cuts. The world was slowly falling apart again, just when she thought it was going to be all right. Matt's words kept ringing in her head, so full of hope and yet urging her to cry her heart out: _"I won't ever give up on you Karen. Neither will Foggy. So please, don't give up on yourself."_

Maybe it was already too late.

   

* * *

 

  

Matt smelled blood. Not metaphorically, he really smelled blood. It was mixed with a sweet fragrance of raspberry and sunshine and the odor of the soil after a shower. This may sound like a weird combination, but it was what Karen smelled like, and he loved it. The odor of copper blended with her own perfume though, he hated. It made him sick to his stomach. She smelled like blood and tears, the two things he wanted to protect her from. Without success.

He heard her light steps in the hallway. "Karen," he said. "You promised."

She stopped in her tracks, her heart as thundering as ever, this time carrying a note of melancholy: "I'm afraid I'm not good at keeping promises, Matt."

But he was for two.

_I will keep you safe, Karen._


	5. The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen visits Ben's grave and Foggy shows up. She comes clean about her past.

_**"The torture of a bad conscience is the hell of a living soul."** _

**John Calvin**

 

 

It's funny, how the landscape can magically reflect your inner turmoils or your mood. One could think that it would only happen in books or in movies, where there is someone planning it all. Being a non-believer, Karen Page did not think that any entity was watching over human beings from up above, scheming and deciding and writing their fates on old, dusty parchments. But on this gray morning, dull and cold, she thought life had a strange sense of humor.

The sun shed timid rays on Hell's Kitchen's graveyard. The sky was heavy, the thick clouds covering the city like a lid. The mist wrapped the tombs in its ethereal whiteness, like an old friend who would try to comfort the dead. Karen's steps almost resonated in the silence of the desert place, and she crossed her arms over her chest to seek for some warmth and courage.

She kept walking until she found the grave she had been looking for. She knelt before it, her fingers gently brushing over the stone letters lying on the winter ground.

"Hello, Ben," she whispered. She fished out a pen from her pocket and laid it on the stone as her the corners of her lips lifted in a sad and weak smile. "I know this is slightly unconventional," she said, "but what's the point in leaving you flowers at this time of the year, uh?" She heaved a heavy sigh, the smoke coming for her mouth dancing and twirling in front of her. "A pen seemed quite fitting. You died a writer after all." Tears started to burn the back of her eyes and she looked up at the sea of clouds above her head. "You didn't die because of a pen, you died because of me. I'm so sorry, Ben."

Her eyes rested on the numbers set on the tombstone, and morbid images passed before her eyes. She couldn't help but imagine him lying in his last home, rotting and fading away into the darkness. His eyes sealed. His body rigid. She shivered at the thought. She had always been afraid of death and all things that surround it. But since it all began, since Daniel Fisher and Wilson Fisk and Wesley, she was more afraid of the Last Judgment than the failure of her heart. Quite uncanny for a woman who didn't believe in God, is it not? Well, the truth is, she believed in Evil. She believed in Darkness. She believed in Hellfire. She believed she was doomed. She didn't know where to, the idea of a place deep beneath the surface filled with gigantic flames and demons sounding a bit too much, but she knew that what goes around, comes around. And it didn't matter whether there was a God and a Satan, angels and fallen angels, or even if an Ancient god weighed your heart on a scale, hoping it would be as light as a feather. Death was coming for all of us. And she wanted her slate cleared by the time it would.

She didn't know why she had come here today, this pen in her pocket. Perhaps she needed some solace and couldn't find any with the living.

She couldn't go to Matt, not after what she had told him. Plus, it wasn't entirely true. She  _could_  keep promises. Just not the ones that matter the most. She thought about going to see Foggy, but she didn't want to bother him with her problems. What she hated the most about the whole situation is that she felt like a child. Matt was right about that. She was tired of all the self-pitying and the tears. She wanted to take matters into her own hands, but she didn't know how. Last time she did, it ended in murder. It ended with Ben's assassination. What would happen this time? With Lorelei in town, it was all bound to chaos. She had to figure something out. They couldn't learn what she had done. They couldn't learn all the  _things_ she had done.

All of a sudden, a trembling and familiar voice broke the lethal silence of the place. "Karen I'm so sorry I-"

"Hey Foggy," Karen smiled, quickly wiping her tears away. She stood up and faced him. "What are you doing here?"

He seemed hesitant. "I... I was looking for you," he replied, scratching the top of his head.

"How did you know you'd find me here?"

"You weren't at your place, you weren't at the office..."

Karen tilted her head to the side. "It's  _Sunday,_  Foggy."

Her friend draw in a deep breath. "... and you weren't at Matt's," he continued.

She snorted, her heart skipping a beat at his words. "Why on earth would I be at Matt's on a Sunday morning?" she asked.

"I..." Damn, she was as stubborn as Matt. Foggy shook his head. "Anyway, I wanted to see  _you_."

Panic started to seize her. "Why? What's going on? Did something happen?"

Foggy came closer to her and took her hands. "No, no nothing happened. It's just... You promise you won't punch me in the face?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," she replied. Hadn't she been so blue, she would have probably laughed at the irony.

He pursed his lips, words mixing in his head. "I'm worried about you," he finally said after a few seconds of intolerable silence. "I heard you talking with Matt at the office and you look... You look so... preoccupied. Does it have anything to do with Lorelei?"

Karen let go of his hands and knelt before Ben's tomb once more, her eyes locked on the stone. "Foggy, I really don't want to talk about this right now."

"You  _never_  feel like talking about it," he snapped. "Fisk is behind bars, and I know that it won't bring Ben back, and that Elena is still..." He sighed and closed his eyes. "But I thought it would all be better now."

She snorted. "Well, this isn't a happy ending. I'm sorry, but life's a bit more complicated than that. Just because you put the bad guy away doesn't mean everyone gets to fly into the sunset."

"Don't do this," he pleaded.

"Do what?" she asked without looking at him.

He knelt by her side, his eyes drawn to the tombstone. "Shut me out," he answered. "We've been through a lot, and you may try to push me away but I swear to Ben, and Elena, I won't give up on you. I wouldn't be a friend if I let you drown into whatever is eating you up. So now you're gonna tell me what's wrong, or else I will drag you to Josie's and fill your stomach with the... eel stuff!"

She smiled despite herself. "I can't," she softly let out.

But he wouldn't drop it. "So let's begin with this: what's the deal with you and Lorelei?"

Karen sighed. Why on earth had she grown close to the most pig-headed men on the planet? "We were friends. Back in high school."

"In Vermont, right?"

"Yeah, in Vermont."

And suddenly, she was there, amidst the trees and the peacefulness of Fagan Corners, Vermont. The white houses, the green lawns, the dogs barking, the children cheering on their way home, her parents... She didn't want to think about them. She didn't want to think about this town which had never, ever been her home. And, above all, she didn't want to share her past with Foggy or anyone else. But there she was, peering into her friend's worried eyes. He cared. And it filled her heart with an unexpected warmth. Didn't she owe him the truth, or at least a part of it after all they'd been through and the way he had cared for and about her?

She cleared her throat. To hell with this, she thought. "We hum," she began, unsure as to how she was going to tell her story. "I didn't have a lot of friends, I was shy and unpopular and dying to get the hell out of there. I was smart though. I loved fiction, I love reading and watching movies. It helped me escape the town I lived in and I would go southward, westward, to Europe and Asia and Africa. But for some reason I didn't have terrific grades. Maybe that's why I wasn't popular or anything. I was just... average." She paused and bit her lower lip, her eyes staring at nothing. It hurts to think about what was, especially when you haven't in years. She took in a deep breath and looked at her friend. "Anyway," she said, "one day I was minding my own business and reading a book... I think it was  _The Heart is a Lonely Hunter_ , and um... Lorelei, she came up to me and just sat in front of me arguing that people were right, I  _was_  a total nerd. I thought she was insulting me but... really, she was only asserting the truth, telling me that she was glad to see that I was who I was. We started talking and somehow we never parted again. But boy, she was trouble." She laughed. "I was very angry at the time, and all the anger I had in me I released during my theater classes. It helped a lot. I dropped when Lorelei started to take me with her during what she called her 'carpe diem trips.' We would do stupid things like robbing clothes or getting high. It was only marijuana at first. But when I turned eighteen, she offered me heroin. I wasn't against a little bit of danger, on the contrary, but I... I knew this would wreck me, that there would be no turning back. So I refused and we got into a fight. Big time. The day after, she told me it was fine, that she understood and that she would never force it on me. I thought we were okay." The feeling of old tears burned her cheeks and she looked away. "But a few weeks later, I was walking into the hallway and they were all laughing, and their eyes, they were... so piercing. I had always been so invisible, and now they were all mocking me, judging me. I felt as if I had an A on my chest. I picked up the pace and I found Lorelei. She told me my boyfriend had shared our sex tape with his friends. We had been dating for a couple of weeks he was only the second guy I'd ever dated and we had done it  _once_ , I didn't even know he was filming all of this. And now it was for the world to see. The following days my locker was filled with notes calling me 'slut' and huge amounts of condoms. I felt like shit. And I was enraged. So I invited my ex boyfriend over, pretending that if I was a slut for the whole school, I might as well live up to that. He bought it and showed up at my parents'. They were gone for the weekend. We were in my bedroom, he was smiling, smirking even. I told him to close his eyes, that he wouldn't regret it." The shiver down her spine reminded her of the moment, so far away, so dark. She gulped and stared at Foggy. "And then I shot him," she let out. "Twice."

Foggy's jaw dropped at the words. He couldn't believe her. "You... You shot him? With a gun?"

"No, Foggy, with a water pistol," she deadpanned. "Of course I shot him with a freaking  _gun_."

His eyes blinked. "And did he... is he..."

"He's still alive," she sighed, guessing he meant to ask about his... state. "I didn't kill him. I just... I just shot, without paying attention to where I was aiming. All I know is... The voices in my head... They told me to _kill_ him. That he deserved it, that it was justice. So I pulled the trigger, hoping the pain would go away. It's the most stupid thing I ever did. At least it was..." She avoided his look. She wouldn't say more. "Lorelei knows about this," she added. "She knows because she's the one who helped him filming us and she sent it to _everyone_ in my school. Teachers included. Lucky me, it was the end of the year, I graduated soon after and I left Vermont. I wanted to become an actress and go to Los Angeles. I did, and I stayed there for five years but... I couldn't live there anymore so I ended up here, in Hell's Kitchen." She got up, her body so tense she thought she might fall apart. "That's all you need to know, Foggy, and even more."

He stood up as well, concern marring his face. "That's a lot to taken in."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you. And you can't tell Matt."

"He wouldn't judge you, you know. I don't."

Karen smiled. "I know. I'm not afraid of your judgment. I'm afraid of the way he'd see me if he knew. I know he can't actually see me but... he must have this picture of me in his head and I just don't want to tarnish it. I don't wanna go through what I had to go through in high school, with everyone around me thinking I was a good-for-nothing."

Foggy put his hand on her shoulder. "We know you're not. I... I won't tell you that what you did was okay. As a lawyer, I happen to think that you could've handled things more... smartly. But... everybody makes mistakes, Karen. At least no one died."

If only he knew. "But I wanted him dead," Karen explained. "I just... I just feel like there's this darkness in me threatening to spread like wildfire and harm the ones I love."

"This 'darkness,' Karen, we all have it. After Elena died, I wanted one thing: killing the bastard. Chopping his head off, burning him, peeling his skin off. I'm not kidding. I would picture a thousand ways to kill him in my head. If he had been in front of me, I would probably have lost it." He sighed deeply and smirked. "But I'm not Daredevil, I'm just Foggy. He would've slaughtered me."

"So... You're telling me that knowing all of this doesn't change the way you see me?"

"You made a mistake, Karen. But you didn't cross the line. You didn't kill him. That's all that matters. So no, I don't think you're a bad person and I don't see you differently."

She tucked a strand of her blond hair behind her ear, nervous. "And if... he had died, that day?"

Foggy shook his head. "He didn't." He flashed her a reassuring smile, the kind she liked so much, and extended his hand to her. "Now, what about paying a visit to our dear friend Matt? Let's grab some donuts on the way, it's on me."

Karen chuckled. His cheerfulness was so contagious. Foggy always thought there was nothing sugar couldn't solve. She took his hand and sighed, her face showing him what he wanted to see. She would never say it to his face but... he was wrong. Her problems, only a miracle could solve. And she didn't believe in the latter.

 

* * *

 

_"I'm afraid I've never been good at keeping promises, Matt."_

The words kept ringing in his head, like a record on a loop. It stung, he could feel her voice penetrating his pores and poisoning his blood.

When he had explained the situation to Foggy, how it had all started and what he had become after the accident, his friend had believed he only meant that his senses were heightened: he could hear more, smell more, sense more. But what Foggy didn't know, what he himself had learned to live with year after year, was his senses mingling. Matt could also feel a sound, he could listen to a smell, he could hear what he touched. "Synesthesia" they call it. Big, fancy word, all of this to say his senses went nut. That's how he managed to get a picture of what people looked like. And the more he was around them, the more the picture became clear, like the light of the sun slowly chasing the shadows on a painting. He had also noticed that the more he cared about a person, the strongest he felt. When it came to Karen, he felt like a heap of senses, not a human being.

He could hear her shivers, he could smell her distress. All of her pain was like sandpaper scraping against his own heart. He hated to even think about it, but he felt weak. Helpless. Useless. That's why he spent so much time out there as Daredevil these days. To feel like he could make a difference, that he could protect the people of Hell's Kitchen. It was purely selfish of him. But the truth is, if he had a say in God's plan, he would choose to protect Karen over them.

He couldn't describe what he felt for her. It haunted him. They had obviously grown pretty close, like warriors during months of battle. But what was this electricity between them? What did it mean? He had never been in love. Sure, he had dated – even though "hooked up" would be more appropriate – some girls, but it had always ended the same way: with him running away or the girl dumping him because she felt he was about to run away. He couldn't explain this tendency of his. It had always been this way, even before the vigilante routine. Perhaps he was afraid of letting himself fall for someone. Perhaps he didn't want to depend on anyone but him. And he sure didn't want anyone to depend on him. He had never been in love because he had never let himself be. He could have, though. With Claire... he had almost let go. But his fears had caught up with him, and it was better this way. That's why nothing could ever happen between him and Karen anyway: he would put her life in danger while all he wanted was to protect her. She didn't need a lover, she needed peace. Daredevil was not peace. It was fury and blood.

He sat on his couch and sighed, almost wishing he had done what Stick had advised him to do.

 

" _Cut'em loose for their sake. Break their hearts if you have to, just do it quick."_

 

He couldn't possibly do that now, could he? He couldn't do it alone. He wasn't Stick, he wasn't a warrior, he was just a guy with heightened sense who happened to save some lives at night, clad in his red suit. And this was only a part of who he was. As for the rest he was just... Matt.

Matthew, "the gift of the Lord." The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, God's gift. How ironic. He didn't know whether he was obeying God or himself, he didn't know whether he was a good person or not, but he knew that his life was headed in a dangerous direction. He didn't want to drag Karen into that. Foggy was already halfway there now he knew his secret, but Karen could still be saved.

Three loud knocks on the door snapped him out of his tormented thoughts. He laughed.  _Even as a teenager I never thought so much_ , he thought.

He stood up and headed to the door, a heartfelt smile breaking across his face. Foggy and... Karen. They were both behind the door. He hadn't seen her since... It was two days ago. And there she was.

Opening the door is never easy. Matt Murdock knew it better than most. But now she was standing there, he didn't know whether he wanted to keep it closed... or swing it open, wrap his arms around her, and never let her go.


	6. Broken ribs and shattered hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Foggy surprise Matt by showing up at this place with donuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, AAAAAANGST

_**"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love."** _

**Fyodor Dostoyevsky, _The Brothers Karamazov._**

 

 

He opened the door like one opens a treasure chest: with apprehension and avidity.

Every time he opened a door, he couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. Opening a door is welcoming a new picture, a new person. The wooden or metallic surface before you moves so as to reveal something else, something unknown or familiar. In Matt's case, everything was the same: whatever stood in front of him was on fire. The world was still blazing and yet, at this very moment, a weak gleam stood out in the midst of the dancing flames.

Karen's face.

He would never know what she looked like, but he could recognize her face among millions. It was as if bubbles of pale light were waltzing away the incandescent radiance of the fire. Granted, he could not make out her features, but she was like a beacon of peace in the hell of his eyes.

"Hey, buddy," Foggy cheered, "I hope you're hungry 'cause we brought some donuts!"

Matt smiled and urged them to come inside. "Had I known you two were coming over, I would've cooked something."

"You cook?" Karen asked as she hung her coat up.

Hearing her voice again filled him with delight, even though he didn't want to admit it. "I  _try_ to," he replied, which was not a lie. He did try. "The great thing about being blind is that you learn to savor what you're eating in a different way. You taste flavors normal people don't."

"It's like going to a pitch black restaurant on a daily basis," Foggy added casually.

"Exactly," Matt laughed. He sat on the couch, feeling strangely nervous. "So, what have you been up to?"

Foggy joined him and the smell of grease and sugar told him that his friend was about go on a donut binge. "I was at Marci's yesterday and this morning..." he took a bite into a donut. Way to build the suspense. "I was still at Marci's."

Matt chuckled and raised his head towards his other friend who had remained on her feet. "Karen?" he asked.

She folded her arms over he chest. "I went to see Ben," she let out.

"Good," he simply replied. "I went to see him two days ago."

Karen frowned and her heart skipped a beat. "You did?"

"I didn't get to know him as much as you did, and I'm sure he cared about you in a way he didn't us, but he was a good man." He heaved a sigh. "I prayed for him. I know this mustn't mean anything to you but..."

"You're wrong," Karen cut him off. "It means a lot." She sat on the coffee table opposite the couch and took his hand. The feel of her skin against his own sent electricity through every inch of his body. "Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, glad to know he had managed to bring her some comfort.

From what he knew, it wasn't easy being Karen Page. Life hadn't been kind to her ever since she had step foot in New York City, and he was pretty sure it hadn't been before either. Every time they touched, he could sense so many scars, the kind you desperately want to forget about but which shape your destiny. He couldn't blame her for that. He himself was nothing but a mess of scars. His father, his sight, Stick, Claire, the women he had known... Matt Murdock was not a keeper. Sometimes, he caught himself thinking he'd be better off alone, since life had chosen to take its toll in his bonds to other human beings. But then, he remembered Foggy, the brother he never had, the one good thing in his life that had stood the test of time, despite his many secrets. And then, he remembered Karen. And even though he was not able to explain why, he couldn't fathom a world without her.

"Okay, enough with the morbid talk," Foggy declared, shaking Matt off his thoughts. "We're not here to cry in unison."

"And what are you here for?" Matt asked him, trying to get a hand on a donut before they all disappeared in his friend's bottomless stomach.

"To have a good time! Let's party, guys!"

Karen burst out laughing. "It's 10  _a.m_ , Foggy."

Foggy pouted and dropped the donut he was about to bring to his mouth. "Or not."

"Well," Karen cooed, "what do you think of the donuts?"

He gave a sigh of contentment. "It's like biting into Heaven."

"Not sure they're baking in Heaven," Matt remarked.

Foggy pretended to be offended. "And how would you know, smartass?"

Karen brought her hands under her chin and rubbed them together. "Do you really believe in Heaven, Matt?" she asked.

Silence stretched between the trio, but Matt didn't need much reflexion. "I do," he said.

"And in Hell?"

He cleared his throat and drew in a deep breath. What a question. He had had that exact same discussion with his priest not so long ago. "If you believe in God," he began, "you have to believe in the Devil. I... I had doubts about this as well to be completely honest. So yeah, I believe in Hell." His senses told him her body had stiffened at his words. She gulped and her nails were about to dive into the flesh of her palm. "And someone once wrote that 'the path to paradise begins in hell,' luckily for us  _all,_ " he softly added.

Karen gave him a weak smile. "You're quoting Dante now?"

He smirked. "Learning witty quotes had its perks when it came to flirt with Art students."

Foggy nodded. "Smooth," he commented.

"You must've been quite the womanizer in college, despite what you told me," Karen said.

"You have no idea," Foggy sighed. "The 'wounded, handsome duck thing'  _is_ a thing. There was this Greek girl..."

And Foggy went on about Matt's many conquests, and how they would all swoon and faint – he exaggerated a bit, only one of them had fainted and it was because she was ill – and how it never lasted more than a couple of weeks. Matt smiled fondly at the memory. Those days were so far away, they belonged to a past he wasn't sure was his own. Everything was easier then. His soul wasn't tinged by all this violence. Now, it was as if the darkness he faced everyday crept into his heart and ate away all that was good in him. And the only way to keep it out and keep the devil in was to focus on the light his friends shed without even being aware of it.

"You tried to seduce her _in_   _Punjabi_? Really?" Karen said. She was crying _with laughter,_  which was a pleasant change.

"I was very daring," Foggy replied.

"And did it work?"

Foggy pouted and shrugged. "She laughed at me and I'm pretty sure she insulted me."

"You should've taken Spanish with me," Matt said.

"Anyways, Matt's always been way more successful than me."

His friend patted the top of his head. "But the few relationships you had lasted longer than mine."

"How did you pick them?" Karen asked. She immediately shook her head and laughed nervously. "I mean, how did you know you were attracted to a girl? I'm not trying to say that attraction is merely physical, but it's a big part of it, normally."

Now, that was a tricky question. "I... I just 'dated' the girls I liked listening to," Matt answered.

"And we had this running joke, like Matt was some sort of blind Cinderello."

"'Cinderello'?" Karen repeated, skeptical.

Foggy was now all excited and Karen almost regretted asking him to explain. "Yeah," he answered, "a Cinderella guy, and his glass shoe was a pretty voice. I liked to think it was a crossover between  _Cinderella_  and  _The Little Mermaid_."

"And the woman of my life is supposed to have the most beautiful voice in the world," Matt declared with a hint of sarcasm mixed with grandeur.

"You have the material to write a book Foggy, go ahead!" Karen said, the corners of her mouth trying to reach her ears.

" _The Blind and the Voice_ , it has a nice ring on it, doesn't it?" He checked his cell phone and Matt just knew he was up to something as his phone hadn't buzzed. _At all_.

"I gotta go," Foggy said, "there's this... thing I gotta take care of, right now."

"Marci?" Karen inquired with a smile.

"She's so demanding, she can't get enough of this," he replied, showing his body. "Anyways, see you tomorrow! Be good."

He left Matt's place in no time. What a good friend. He obviously had no  _rendez-vous_. It was all a trap.

"So..." Matt began. He could quote Dante but he wasn't even able to speak normally when she was around.

"Yeah," Karen replied. She wasn't that good either.

"This doesn't have to be awkward, you know."

"It's not. I mean, it is, but..." She got up from the coffee table. "I'm sorry."

Matt sighed. "Karen, I'm tired of hearing you say that. Stop apologizing."

"But I feel like I keep disappointing you and I..."

"I don't know what's going on in your life, I don't know what's making you feel so insecure, but if there's one thing I know for sure is that you could  _never_  disappoint me, Karen. I'm your friend, not a judge."

She sat back on the coffee table. He knew she was staring at him. He could feel his face burning up every time she did. "Is this what we've become?" she asked. "Two people who don't know what to talk about without starting a fight?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't wanna fight."

She bit her lower lip, and the sound of her teeth plunging into her flesh was deafening. "I wish we could get rid of this burdensome atmosphere every time we're left alone in the same room," she let out.

"We could, if you told me what's bothering you."

She drew in a deep breath. Her heart was starting to beat faster. "Lorelei," she said. "She reminded me of my past, and it's not pretty." She joined her hands together and rested her chin upon them. "I told Foggy about this, this morning. He kinda ambushed me. Anyway, I don't trust him more than I trust you, but-"

"But what?" Matt said, more angrily than he intended to. "What makes it so damn difficult for you to open up to me, Karen?"

She scoffed and got up swiftly. Her moves were sharp. "This is a terrible idea, I should go."

He sighed and stood up. "No, Karen, wait, I-"

She put on her coat and his heart broke with every rustling of the fabric. "I'm not ready to tell you and you're obviously not ready to hear it," she said. She headed to the door and stopped, suddenly. Without turning around to face him, she said, one last time: "I'm  _sorry_ , Matt."

 

* * *

 

"You should take it easy, man," Foggy said as he watched his friend wince.

Matt was lying on the couch, his hand rubbing his forehead. He had had a pretty rough night, but at least the man in the mask had given some good punches.

"I can't, Foggy," Matt answered, "I don't get to take a break when this city's being torn apart."

"Dammit Matt, Hell's Kitchen doesn't need a corpse! And stop talking like you're living in a movie or something, no one's gonna buy that."

Matt chuckled. Sometimes, he felt like his life was indeed a movie, except he didn't get to direct it. He just had to follow the will of the big boss up there. He brushed his bruised ribs, every laugh of his triggering waves of pain. He couldn't take it slow, not now all the demons who walked the streets of Hell's Kitchen thought they would be left alone after Fisk's arrest. He had to show them he knew they were there, and that they wouldn't get away with their crimes.

"Karen asked me why you didn't show up this morning," Foggy said.

Matt sighed and removed his hand from his forehead. "What did you say?" he asked.

He heard Foggy's fingers tap on the coffee table. He feared the worst. "I told her you had someone over," his friend finally let out too quickly.

Matt sat up straight, grunted and clenched his fist. Things were far from being easy between Karen and him, and now she probably thought he was having a good time with some random woman while the only woman he wanted to be with... "Foggy... I-"

"Look, I'm not an idiot, I know there's something going on with you two," his friend replied. "The only thing is, neither of you is mature enough to admit it. But I couldn't tell her you were ill, _again_ , or that you were in a car accident,  _again_ , or that you fell off your chair...  _again_. Plus, you know her, she would've showed up in less time than it takes to say 'the Devil of Hell's Kitchen' with a pie or a balloon or God knows what."

Matt shrugged. "She's... caring."

"She cares about  _you,_ " Foggy scoffed.

Matt shook his head. "She cares about you too..."

Foggy pointed his finger at him, figuring he would sense it. Plus, it made him feel in control. "Don't," he said. "I've wrapped my mind around it. I know she only sees me as a friend, and I'm okay with that. Plus I'm kinda seeing Marci again, so... let's say I'm past it." He pursed his lips and heaved a heavy sigh. "And I'd rather see her with you than with anyone else," he added.

"It's not like that..."

"For a lawyer you're a lousy liar, Murdock."

Matt drew in a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know what I feel for her. I don't wanna label it."

"You just don't wanna see it." If his friend had been able to actually see, Foggy was sure his eyes would have been sending daggers. "Sorry," he conceded. "But seriously, Matt, I don't understand, Karen has had this huge crush on you since the day you met."

"I think she had other more serious things in mind when we first met, like 'Am I gonna spend the rest of my life in jail?' or 'am I gonna live through the night?'."

Foggy tilted his head to the side. "You know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"You're such a pain in the ass!"

"And that's why you love me."

Foggy smirked. "And maybe that's why  _she_  loves  _you_."

These words triggered something in Matt. It was painful, but not like a broken rib. It was a burning, widespread pain, mixed with... fear? "I'm done talking about that, Foggy," he stated. "You can either drop the L word, or go to the office."

"You mean  _getting the hell out of your place,_ " Foggy deadpanned.

"No, I mean getting your ass to the office where you're supposed to be right now."

"I swear to God, Matt," he sighed, "you're the only one standing in the way of your happy ending, and the same goes for her. You are both total idiots. A perfect match."

He gave his friend a sad smile and stood up, ready to go, but not quite. "Look," he said, earning a muffled curse from Matt, "remember when we were in college and I was crazy about that chick..."

"Which one?" Matt sneered.

"Be careful Daredevil, let me remind you that I have shitloads of pictures of you you never got to see."

His friend pouted and nodded. "Go on."

"So, I was _crazy_  about her, I remember telling you that I was in love and how happy it made me feel, and then you broke my heart."

Matt remembered that day. "I told you I had never been in love," he said.

"Worse. You told me you thought you were not able to fall in love. Because you always grew tired of the girls you hanged out with or they didn't make you feel the way that girl made  _me_  feel. You thought love was not your thing." Foggy sat next to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. "Here's the thing, Matt. Love is  _everyone_ 's thing. It's just that some people push it away without even noticing. Happiness is at your door. _Literally_  at your door, I mean."

"Well, I'm not a simple student with heightened senses anymore. I'm a  _vigilante_  with heightened senses. And you know it never ends well for the vigilante's girlfriend."

"Karen is not Gwen Stacy."

"I can't put her through all of this mess, Foggy." He ran his hand over his hair. "Plus we're only considering my side of it, what about her? She doesn't deserve this. And she wouldn't want this.

"Who are you to make decisions on her behalf?" Foggy remarked. "She knows what she wants. The heart knows what it wants."

"Well, not the head," Matt jeered.

"Stop thinking and start feeling."

"That's all I'm doing, Foggy."

"Man, for a guy with heightened senses you don't sense much."

Matt gritted his teeth. It stung. Of course he felt a lot, and his friend couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to hear  _everything_ , from the fluttering of butterflies wings to the sirens of a bleeding city. He didn't know what it was like to smell  _everything_ , the filth, the perfumes, the tears, the blood. He knew absolutely nothing about the overwhelming tide of darkness washing over his world, day after day, crushing his hopes, and Karen's voice, weaker and weaker, slowly muffled by the sound of fear and fury.

He knew her attitude changed when he was around, ever so slightly. He could tell her heart beat faster. She played a lot with her hair, always tucking a strand behind her ear. At times, she laughed nervously. No one could tell, but him. He had never really given much thought to her behavior. He thought she was hiding something from him, but it had never occurred to him that she was trying to hide the way  _he_  made her feel. Foggy was right, after all. For a man with heightened senses, he hadn't sensed much. He should have known, but just like he had mistaken that woman's love for sickness, back when he was a little boy, he had totally missed the point here. The truth is, he didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to admit she cared about him in a way that terrified him. He was afraid of her, and even more of himself.

A grimace distorted his mouth. Damn, every fiber of his being was painful. Foggy helped him to get up and went to the kitchen to fill him a glass of water. As the drops turned into a cascade, Matt sighed. He knew now what he felt.

She made his heart feel like his ribs.


	7. The Foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt pays a visit to the Devil in prison. Back in the office, Lorelei gets pretty close, and Karen sees it all...

_**"Paradise was made for tender hearts; hell, for loveless hearts."** _

**Voltaire**

 

 

The air carried a sultry note of despair. Anyone could feel it, no need to be Daredevil. Some places are just too full of pain to be odorless.

Ryker's Island was one of those places.

The shape of its buildings stood against the blue sky like clouds of concrete. It was odd, how the sun seemed to avoid the island, casting its rays all around on the still waters of the East River. The winter winds swept through the blocks like as many ghosts haunting the area. Not actual ghosts, rather drafts of pain and sorrow trying to get away from the island, without success. Matt almost pitied the wretched souls who were doomed to rot away there, so close to life and yet so far. But the inmates had all done something wrong, after all. A sigh escaped from Matt's lips. He knew better. Justice, sometimes, was indeed blind. He couldn't see any of it, he couldn't see the shadows wrapping the whole place in their morbid mantle, nor the dull blocks standing on the ground like gigantic vaults.

But it felt like going straight down to Hell.

Matt and Foggy were still working on Lorelei's case, and they both knew that whatever was to happen, they had to find this James Wesley. Lorelei had filled all the paperwork required at the police station and it was now in the hands of the prosecutor to issue an arrest warrant against Wesley, but Matt being who he was – both a lawyer and a stubborn, horn-headed vigilante -, he had decided to pay a visit to Wilson Fisk in person while Foggy took care of Lorelei and tried to get as much information from her as possible. The latter had seemed quite delighted to get to spend some time with her, but Matt knew it wasn't because he was interested in her. It was something else... He seemed to be eager to keep him away from their client, as if he wanted to talk to her about something special... Matt was intrigued, but he was also hellbent on talking to Fisk, so he hadn't asked any question.

Foggy had warned him against going to the Kingpin, but Matt needed to do this. He needed to get answers before the police got involved, and he needed to face him in his cell, locked away from the world he had torn apart. And the best part was, Fisk wouldn't even know he'd be talking to his captor.

The lawyer slowly made his way down the large hall. The steady echo of his cane meeting the floor filled the silent space. This was a maximum security prison and one just didn't get into it with a flick of the wrist. But Matthew Michael Murdock could be quite convincing sometimes. After all, he was Daredevil.

Matt passed the security, filled the paperwork, passed the security again, and all of a sudden, silence invaded the hallway. He drew in a deep breath and a devilish smirk curled his lips. Before him stood the man he had put away. The King of Hell. Wilson Fisk.

"Your face looks familiar..." Fisk noticed, sat on his bed.

"I'm Matthew Murdock," Matt said, "I wanted to buy one of Miss Vanessa's paintings."

The Kingpin smiled at the evocation of her name. "And did you buy it?" he inquired, almost softly.

"I was a bit short," Matt quipped. He took a few steps further before being stopped by a guard. This was the closest he would get to Satan. "Anyway," he continued, "as you perfectly know, I'm not here to talk about art."

"And I know you're not here to offer me your services either," the prisoner sighed, "so what can I do for you, Mr Murdock?"

Matt smiled. He could feel the animosity pouring from the man's lips and his desire to smash his face. But he wouldn't show any of that, even to a blind man. Matt had to admit it, Wilson Fisk was a demon, but he had manners. "One of my clients is pressing charges against someone you know: Mr James Wesley," he began. He noticed the change in his breath, the way his heartbeat started to race, and he recognized this pattern: Fisk did know Wesley, and more surprisingly, he  _cared_  about him. "We can't seem to find him anywhere," he added, "and we thought you could... help us."

Fisk gulped and tried to regain his composure. Without leaving his spot, he smiled to his visitor. "And who is this client of yours?"

"That, Mr Fisk, is none of your concern." Matt tilted his head to the side, his senses ready to decipher the man in the cell. "Do you know where Mr Wesley is?" he asked.

He heard his bones cracking, his hands forming two huge fists of fury. There was also a hint of regret and sadness in the way he breathed. After a few seconds of silence, Fisk stood up and approached the bars of his cell. His black eyes roamed the lawyer's face, peered into his glasses, eager to sound his soul. Who was this man who had the nerve to visit Wilson Fisk in the dreadful prison of Ryker's Island? His friend's face suddenly flashed before his eyes, replacing the dark red mirrors in the place of his visitor's eyes. "Six feet under," he finally let out. His fists were still clenched and his breath more erratic. "He was murdered."

Matt frowned. Out of all the scenari he had imagined, that one he had excluded. Who would have risked to kill Fisk's right hand man when the latter controlled the most part of Hell's Kitchen? "I'm sorry," he said, almost with compassion. "When did this happen?"

"A few days before I was arrested." Seeing the expression on the lawyer's face, Fisk scoffed. " _I_  didn't do it," he added. "He was my  _friend_ , and his murderer is still out there. You should be looking for them instead of tarnishing his memory."

Matt shook his head. "I'm not a policeman, Mr Fisk, only a lawyer. I want justice."

"And so do I," his foe icily replied.

"Tell that to the people you hurt and who died because of you," Matt answered much more harshly than he had intended to.

Fisk narrowed his eyes, both impressed by the man's bravery and unnerved by the recklessness of his tone. "My friend was shot  _seven_  times. Whoever did this deserves to be behind bars, just as much as I do."

"So you're admitting your crimes?" Matt inquired with scorn.

"I admit that I did what I had to do to save this city. The rest is only a matter of perception."

"Are you telling me there's no evil and no good, Mr Fisk?"

Fisk's grin could have frozen over the world, had he been a god of some sort. "I am," he stated. "And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool." His fingers wrapped around the bars like snakes and he lowly hissed: "'Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil,' Mr Murdock" All I did, I did because I love Hell's Kitchen, and I won't let this Man in the Mask drag my name through the mud."

Matt's fist clenched around his cane. "I'm not a priest, nor a journalist. You should keep your fancy quotes for them."

"Do you think I care who you are?" Fisk fumed. He heaved a heavy sigh and passed his hand over his skull. "Mr Wesley is dead," he continued, more calmly, "so you no longer have a case. Find the one who killed him. In the name of this justice you're worshiping."

"I do not take order from criminals," Matt answered with a light smile. "Goodbye, Mr Fisk." He turned his back to him and took a few steps before turning around. "Oh, and now we call him Daredevil," he added to Fisk's attention.

"I'll find him and all the ones he's ever loved and I'll rip their hearts out," he yelled, "you hear me, Murdock? I will  _butcher_ them!"

Matt kept going, the sound of his cane against the floor mingling with the thundering voice of his enemy. "Enjoy your stay, Fisk," he darkly muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

Matt pushed the door of the office with a sigh. He was tired. He didn't know why but meeting Fisk had drained him off all his energy. Maybe because he had pondered on his words all the way back to Hell's Kitchen: "Whatever is done for love always occurs beyond good and evil." That had to be Nietzsche. He liked that guy, except the whole "God is dead" part, of course.

The philosopher's words got him thinking: how could a man who had done horrible things be loved? How could he, after causing so much chaos, be adored by a woman? How could Vanessa give her heart to such a monster? He couldn't wrap his mind around this when he... He had never let himself give in to love, but he had walked alongside hatred for quite a long time now. This Devil within, it was not some sort of demonic possession, it was all the hate and pain he had gathered over the years. Yes, he hated men like Fisk, he hated the misery and the indifference. But what he hated the most was himself. He hated himself for not doing enough, for causing pain to the ones he cared about, for lying to them, repeatedly. He was danger dressed in a fancy tuxedo. He was not so different from the man he had put behind bars. He too had done things for love that had gone wrong. And he was so afraid that all this hate inside of him would nestle in his heart and blacken it until there was no light at all. He was afraid to  _become_  the Devil and end up like Fisk. And yet, the latter had something he thought he could never have: someone who loved him despite the blackness of his soul.

Matt put his bag on his desk and rested his hands on both sides of it. Maybe humans were not made to be heroes. All these feelings didn't really help. A feminine voice shook him off from his thoughts.

"My my, if this isn't my second lawyer in the flesh."

Matt stood up straight and lifted his head in the direction of the voice. Of course, Lorelei was still there.

"Nice to see you," she continued, "we haven't really had the chance to get to know each other yet, contrary to your associate."

Matt smiled. "Yeah, Foggy seems to be quite fond of you. Or he's simply a good lawyer who takes his cases at heart."

"Or maybe it's a little of both," Lorelei quipped. "So, Matt- can I call you Matt?"

"I feel like I won't be able to stop you so, please, call me Matt," the lawyer scoffed.

"How generous of you." She giggled and leaned against his desk, right in front of him. "So, what have been up to these days? Working on my case, I hope?"

Matt left his spot so as to face her. "I'm a good lawyer too."

"Yes, but are you fond of me yet?" she purred.

He tilted his head to the side, unsettled by her attitude. "You are a very self-confident woman," he simply remarked.

"We all should be. I believe that when you want something, you should do all that's in your power and even more to get it."

He wasn't sure she was talking about her case, but he pretended she did. "We'll get justice, Lorelei."

"Sure, we will." A mischievous smile appeared on her lips as she studied Matt's face. "You know, I was nicely surprised when I first walked into that office."

"Seeing a friend after so many years must indeed be a nice surprise."

"I wasn't talking about Karen," she laughed.

He knew all too well where all of this was going, and he didn't like that. "Lorelei, I'm not sure-"

"Stop. You're not  _that_  blind, excuse my bluntness."

He shook his head. "You're all excused, I hate being treated like I'm made of sugar."

"We both know you're not."

Something told him she was referring to something else, but her heartbeat had remained steady the whole time.

"A friend of mine had told me about Matthew Murdock before," she added, leaving the corner of his desk. "A handsome man, with uncanny eyes."

She was now so close to him he could feel the heat of her body wrapping his. "May I?" she asked. He nodded, curious. She took off his glasses and scanned his eyes. "They were right," she said. "They're uncanny. It's like liquid gold merged with copper or cinnamon, hard to tell."

"And who's this friend you're mentioning, exactly?" he inquired, frowning.

She smiled and put his glasses back on. "All in good time, Matt," she replied. "I didn't want to talk about that anyway. I wanted to know your  _professional_ opinion on my case."

He cleared his throat. She had this way of making you forget about the world around... "Well," he answered, "we have all reasons to be hopeful."

"Have we?" she jeered. "Did you find Mr Wesley?"

Matt drew in a deep breath. "No, I didn't," he lied. "But I'll keep you posted."

"I hope I won't have to wait too long before I see you again. I'd miss those eyes."

"I'll call you if there's anything new," he answered with a smile.

"Well, see you later then, Mr Murdock."

She brushed past him and her smell, spicy and sweet and smoky lingered in the air. He was puzzled, and this was quite unusual for a man who could sense everything. Lorelei was obviously hiding something from him and she was not the innocent victim she wanted them to believe. Or did she? What was the point of sowing the seeds of doubt into her lawyer's mind? It didn't make any sense. And this friend she had mentioned... Matt didn't have many friends. Really, his friends were Foggy and Karen, even though everything was pretty complicated at the moment. So who was this friend of hers who knew him? Suddenly, Matt heard his friend approaching.

"You should be careful."

"I know," Matt sighed.

Foggy walked toward him, his eyebrow arched. "Do you? You didn't really seem to be fighting her back there."

"She's not a threat."

His friend brought a hand to his forehead. "Man, that was shady as fuck!"

"Yes, but she's still our  _client_. And I have news."

"Spill it, how did the trip to the prison go?"

"It wasn't exactly pleasant but then again I didn't go to enjoy the view." Foggy folded his arms over his chest, unamused by his friend's sarcasm. "I talked to Fisk," Matt continued. "He knew Wesley, we were right."

"Did he mention where we could find his pal?"

Matt passed his tongue over his lower lip. "In a coffin," he said. "He's dead. He was murdered. Apparently he received seven bullets in the chest."

Foggy looked amazed. "Fuck... who did that?"

"He doesn't know. Fisk doesn't have many friends but he knows how to control them." Matt shook his head. "Something isn't right," he added, "the more I think about it the less sense it makes: why murder his right hand man?"

"To hurt him?" Foggy tried.

"No, if they wanted to hurt him they would go with Vanessa, and they did. Wesley was his friend but he was one of Fisk's employees above all."

"If we knew the circumstances of his murder, it'd be easier to make a guess." He frowned and rose a hand. "But why are we even trying to guess who killed him again? That's none of our business, Lorelei pressed charges against a guy who's now dead. How do we go through with it?"

"Trial  _in absentia,_ " Matt stated. He could feel his friend was about to sigh like never before. "Come on Foggy, we're lawyers, we've got a client who was assaulted, we have to obtain justice for her."

Foggy massaged his temples. "There are... things you don't know."

"What things?" Matt asked.

His friend bit his upper lip, unsure. "Karen knows Lorelei," he let out, "and... she told me what happened between them."

Matt nodded. "I know she told you."

"I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be. It's my fault, I... I hide things from her too."

Foggy looked down at his feet, knowing all to well that his friend probably hated himself for all the lies he had to tell. After all, he had found out about his secret the hard way and had needed time to forgive him. "Anyways," he said, "what she told me is not pretty, that's all I can tell you."

"Would Lorelei be willing to hurt her?" Matt asked, concerned.

Foggy pondered on his words. The truth scared the hell out of him. "I think so," he replied.

"So you think that her coming to us for this particular case is not a coincidence?"

"I don't believe in coincidences. Especially when mysterious, hot women are involved."

Matt remained silent. Foggy was right. Something was off. This Lorelei Boese was hiding something from them, and she was a very good liar. Almost as good as him.

Almost.

 

* * *

 

She couldn't believe her eyes. She couldn't trust her ears. She could feel the blood thumping in her veins like a stormy sea, eager to crash on the shore and wash the world clear. All this fury inside of her was terrifying. It felt like the seconds before she pulled the trigger in that dim room. The rage which had invaded her being before she shot this man seven times was back, all because of this ghost from her past. What was she up to? What if she tried to get to her by hurting Matt? She wouldn't allow it. This was a war declaration.

And Karen Page knew how to fight.


	8. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen is left with one choice: finding Daredevil.

Karen had always loved snow. Really, it was the only thing she missed from Vermont. Sure, New York was not exactly a snow-deprived state, but it wasn't the same. There is beauty in the whiteness of a hill that cannot compare to immaculate rooftops and streets. Snow remains the same, but contrary to popular belief, it is what lies underneath which makes it so beautiful, not the other way around. This cold whiteness could pour down from the sky and sprinkle Hell's Kitchen all it wanted, it could never light up its dark corners. That's not how it works. Just because a layer of white suddenly comes covering shades of black doesn't mean the blackness is gone, and Karen knew it all too well.

Her teeth chattered and she blew on her hands, hoping to warm them up a bit. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew what she was doing. Or so she thought. It was crystal clear before she got out of her apartment that night. She had thought about it all evening and it felt like the right thing to do. Not the smartest, granted, but maybe the most efficient. The last resort. She had decided to roam the streets of Hell's Kitchen with a precise goal: finding Daredevil. Or rather be found by Daredevil, because apparently that's how it worked.

"Come on," she mumbled. Her voice seemed to fade away into the cold silence of the street. Snow is not only frozen droplets. You can  _hear_  it. It creates a silence of its own that wraps you in its blanket of frost. Listening to snow is like covering your ears with your hands: the muffled noises you can then hear, something warm and soft like velvet, that's how snow sounds. It is such a comforting sound, and Karen was very fond of it, but that night, it didn't mean anything. Nothing meant anything anymore. She needed to protect her friends. She needed to find the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and make a deal with him. She could sell her soul to Lucifer for all it mattered, as long as her loved ones were out of danger.

She walked on in the dead of night, her hands curled up in fists in her gloves. It was so cold she was pretty sure her hair would be frozen soon.  _How am I even supposed to do this?_  She wondered. How do you summon the Devil? It's not like he had given her a visiting card or anything. She should suggest it to him: calling Daredevil as you would order a pizza, sitting on your couch, would have at least kept her from freezing to death.

Of course.  _That was it._

Daredevil was a vigilante. He showed up when you needed him. Somehow, he knew when people were in danger. All she needed to do was getting into trouble. And boy, Karen Page  _was_  trouble.

Her suicidal thoughts led her to Josie's. She disappeared into the street adjacent to the bar and waited for a drunkard to walk out the backdoor. Her mindwas filled with worst-case scenarios, including her getting killed, but she refused to walk away. It was the only way to get in touch with Daredevil and thus the only way to make things right. She had to risk everything. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled deeply, her hot sigh blending with the icy cold air of the night in delicate whirls. This was not her last breath. She trusted the man who, contrary to her, was fearless. He would save her so that she could save her friends.  _He'll save my ass, that's his job_ , she thought. And the words kept ringing in her head like a mantra, until the backdoor swung open.

"Let's get this party started," she sighed to herself.

She put on her most convincing smile and walked towards the man who had appeared. He was tall, probably in his thirties, rather good-looking.  _Shit_ , Karen thought. Even though he smelled like a pint of beer, he didn't look like your typical bad guy. She hated this plan.

"Remember me, handsome?" she cooed.

The man looked confused. "Not really, miss... Should I?"

And he was polite. Awesome. "We had a good time a week ago, so yeah, you definitely should," she snapped.

The stranger passed a hand through his hair and laughed nervously. "I... You must mistake me for some other guy, I'm engaged and..."

Karen heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. "Sorry, it's just, hum, you look so much like him. Have a good night!"

The man nodded and went back into the bar. She was pretty sure she had made out pity in his eyes.

"Goddammit," she mumbled. Her plan was stupid. And her acting classes so, so far away. She had just tried to get into a fight with a nice guy in order to get a man clad in red to come to her. Jesus, she would never say all of this out loud.  _Never._  But while she was at it, she decided to try an even more stupid plan.

She accessed the rooftop of the building and hoped it would work with all her might because it was even colder up there. She felt like her forehead was hitting a wall with every gust of wind.

She crossed her arms over her chest and scanned her surroundings. "Daredevil?" she called, hesitantly.

Only the city answered, with its erratic symphony of sirens. He could be anywhere, miles away, responding to one of those calls. He couldn't possibly hear her. She felt bad for even trying. Some people deserved his help more than she did. But again, she wasn't doing this for herself. She was doing this for her friends.

She drew in a deep breath. "Daredevil!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. She closed her eyes, her heart beating in her throat. "Please, please hear me," she whispered to the night.

She waited and waited, trying to focus on the sound of snow. She hoped it would soothe her, but it didn't. Her heartbeat followed the pattern of the sirens, and despite her best effort, she couldn't control her breathing. She was terrified. She was terrified he wouldn't come, but she was even more scared of being faced with him for the third time. That man reminded her of all that was bad in her. Daredevil, the man in red who dedicated his life to saving people, the exact opposite of Karen Page. She was death when he was life. When he was there, she felt safe and unholy. When he was there, she was faced with her own demons. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen reminded her she was bound to go to hell.

Suddenly, a sharp sound startled her. It was like shoes hitting the ground.

She was nothing but heartbeats and shivers.

Her whole body was shaking with fear and the cold of the night seemed warm compared to her terror. Slowly, her eyes flitted open and her legs nearly gave up on her.

He was there.

His shape stood in the shadows of the winter night, the dim lights splashing against his red costume. His jaw was clenched and his thin yet well-drawn mouth was half-open.

"What's going on? Are you hurt?"

It was like his husky voice entered her every pores and sent electricity down her spine, and the worry tainting it warmed her unsettled heart. "You... You remember me?" she stammered.

A soft smile of relief broke across the small parcel of flesh that wasn't covered by his red mask. "I usually remember the people I met twice," he replied.

She smiled back at him. He had said "met," not "saved," and it touched her more than she would've expected.

"Were you trying to find me?" he added.

"Yes," she let out, her eyes never leaving his mouth.

He remained steady and silent for a few seconds. "Why?" he finally asked.

Karen smiled sadly and shrugged. "I had no one else to turn to."

His heart sank at her words. "What about your friends?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice even.

"There are things I can't tell them," she replied. She sighed and rubbed her hands together as the cold bit her rosy cheeks. "But I want... I  _need_  to confess something."

"I'm afraid I'm not a priest," he scoffed. It killed him to put on this indifferent mask, but he didn't have a choice.

"But you're a hero," she said in a smile.

He ran his tongue over his lips. "That's not what I've been called."

The press hadn't been kind to him. But was it ever when it came to superheroes and vigilantes? She gulped and took a few timid steps towards him.

"Look," she began, "I didn't want to find you to have a nice little chat and give a speech about my miserable life. There are things I need to confess because I fear that what I've done is coming around and..." She stopped and tried to peer into his eyes, but all she found were two black holes. She stared at them nonetheless, hoping he would see the determination in her own eyes. "I'm afraid it might hurt the ones I love," she added. "I'm not here because I need to be saved. I'm here because my friends are in danger and I can't help them alone."

She had piqued his interest. "Go on," he said.

She nodded and drew in a deep breath. "Recently I... This old... 'friend' of mine came back into my life and... it wasn't a coincidence. She told me it had nothing to do with me, but I'm sure it does." She bit her lower lip and frowned. It was too late to back down. "Did you hear about... the death of one of Fisk's men? James Wesley?"

"Yes."

"How much do you know about this?"

"He was murdered," he stated. "Shot seven times. Fisk doesn't know who did it."

She heaved a sigh and smiled weakly, her eyes roaming the illuminated skyline silhouetting against the black sky. "My father..." she let out. "He was a doctor. My parents were religious, Protestants, but, hum... He used to tell me this quote from  _Schindler's List_  every night before I went to sleep: 'Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.' He told me it was from the Talmud but I never really looked into it." She shook her head. "Anyway," she continued, "he was so... Saving lives was his purpose, you know. He wanted me to be a good person." Her gaze left the skyline and fell upon the ground. "I just wonder if the other way around is true, whether whoever takes a life sets the world on fire."

Now it was Daredevil's turn to give in to fear. "What happened?" he asked.

She stared at him and realized there was no way to sugarcoat the reality. "I'm the one who killed him," she quaked, her lips parted in a desperate smile. "He... He captured me and he let the gun on the table and... He thought I wouldn't... But I did. I pulled the trigger once and then six times in a row until the gun was unloaded." She brought her gloved hands to her face and buried her nose into them. Tears felt like lava in the back of her eyes and her voice broke with every word that left her mouth. "Every night I see his face, his look as... I can't live with myself." Hot tears mingled with the snowflakes melting on her cheeks. She gazed at the hero standing in front of her and shook her head. "I can't take another step," she sobbed.

He hadn't moved, he hadn't said a word. The voice which usually wrapped his heart like silk sheets now pierced through his arteries. The last time he had heard so much pain was when _he_  had uttered those exact same words, not so long ago. He had cried in Karen's arms and her sole touch had eased the pain. It was so much simpler to suffer when she was there. And he was tired of feeling so helpless in his red costume of violence and power, just like when he had saved her a few weeks ago. He was tired of hearing her sobs, feeling her near and standing still, like a statue of disdain. He wanted to take away her pain and help her, like real heroes do. He knew Karen Page was the strongest person he had ever met, but she was also the most unconfident. She had no idea how strong she was. He had come to know her pretty quickly, because they were so alike. She probably hated herself for showing signs of weakness, when all she did was being human. And now it was the Devil's turn to show his humanity.

"Unmask me," he said.

She peered at him behind a screen of tears. "Wh- what?" she stammered.

He approached her, gently took her hands and brought them to his face. "Take my mask off, please."

His request clouded her thinking and many questions died on her lips. It was thrilling and touching. He allowed her to meet the man behind the mask. It was intimate, and very strange. Why on earth would he do that? Why her? After a few seconds of silent hesitation, she gulped and tightened her grasp on the fabric. As she did so, her gaze rested on his mouth, his full lips, his square jaw... "It can't be..." she murmured. She blinked and finally unmasked the man standing inches from her, very slowly. This nose, these cheeks... When she finally saw his eyes, she let the red mask drop to the ground and covered her mouth with her left hand. "Matt?" she let out. She stepped backwards. "What the hell?" she barked.

He took a step towards her but she wouldn't let him come any closer. "I..." he began.

"You can explain?" she roared. "Is that what you were about to say? Jesus fucking Christ! Are you even blind?"

"Yes," he sighed, painful memories invading his mind. "Yes, Karen, I'm really blind."

"How do you-" She scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. "You know what, I don't care  _how_  you do it. I really don't. But... how long has this been going on? Was it you, from the beginning? Did  _you_ beat up the guy who tried to kill me? Did _you_  put Fisk away?"

Matt shook his head. "We did this  _together_ , Karen," he gently answered.

She burst into a forced laugh. "Stop. It was never about  _us_." She tilted her head to the side, a look of painful realization marring her face. "That's why you didn't want me to get involved. All this time, I was sick and tired of your damn righteousness, I wanted to break your rules and you were like 'No, Karen, we should use the law.' What a bunch of crap."

He knew she wouldn't let him in easily after hearing the truth. But he would not give up. "I'm sorry for lying to you," he said, "I truly am, but-"

"But what?" she hissed. "Does Foggy know?" He answered with a sigh and she felt like slapping the hell out of him. "Oh, of course he does," she deadpanned, "I'm the only one left in the dark." She approached him dangerously, fierce and bold. "I've believed in you since day one. I know I lied to you when I said I didn't know about the Union Allied hard drive, but I've come to trust you, to admire you with all my heart and now you're telling me you've be lying to my face all along?"

His blood was boiling in his veins, her own anger coursed through his body. He could hear her pain and her fury. He could  _feel_ it. "I didn't tell you about this for the same reason you didn't tell me about Wesley and Lorelei," he said.

"Which is?"

He bit the inside of his cheeks. "Because I was afraid of the way you would see me after you knew," he admitted. He heard the tears springing from the meanders of her being and he gently reached out for her hand. "Karen, please..."

She shook her head vehemently, tired and sobbing. "Go away, just... Just go away..."

His own eyes began to water. It was ironic and cruel. No tears could put down the fire dancing in his blind pupils. Shyly, he wrapped his arms around her and she struggled to get away until he lay a kiss on the top of her head. She burst into tears and sank to the ground, unable to stand any longer. He hummed in her ear and she buried her face in his chest, her cheek against his red suit and her hair against his chin. For a few minutes, she relished the feeling of her body tangled up in his, the beating of his heart only for her to hear. The sirens died away, the snow turned to mellow moon rays, the ground became velvet. He was there, protecting her, caressing her hair, and she could feel his breath against her forehead. He loved nothing more than the softness of her locks against his bruised hands, the way it glided under his touch. He tightened his embrace, wishing they could stay this way. He wouldn't mind being turned into a statue as long as she was in his arms.

"I killed him... I'm a monster..." she cried.

He lifted her chin and cupped her cheek. His eyes followed the sound of her voice and rested upon her mouth. "You're not, Karen," he whispered. "You're not."

"How can you react like this? I shot him  _seven_  times. I unloaded a gun on him. I didn't have to. It was... natural."

"You did what you have to do to protect yourself." He clenched his jaw, a dark expression covering his face like yet another mask. "I'm happy you killed him," he continued. "If you hadn't, he would've killed you. And if there's one thing I fear, it's living in a world in which Karen Page doesn't bring me balloons."

She smiled despite herself. How easy all of this could have been. How simple and peaceful. "Your sweet words won't erase what I've done, just like it won't erase your lies," she let out. She left his arms and stood up. "You say I did what I had to to protect myself, but the truth is, I can't seem to protect myself from you. You make me so weak.  _You_ are hurting me, right now. I would like nothing more than spending the rest of my life in your arms and that's killing me because- I don't even who you are." She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You know," she added, staring at him. "I could've loved you. Both of you, without even making a difference. If only you had told me the truth."

Matt sighed and clenched his fist. "I didn't want to risk your life, and if that's make me selfish, so be it."

"Oh you're not selfish. That's not one of your flaws, on the contrary. But you're a hero. And I don't mean it as a compliment. Just like many other men with abilities or whatever helps you 'see,' you will always make decisions for the people around you.  _You_  decided I couldn't know.  _You_  decided I could now learn the truth. I'm a big girl, and I take matters into my own hands. I've been denied this right before, but that time is gone. I don't wanna live in the shadows anymore. I don't wanna live in your shadow, even though I-" She closed her mouth and eyes, trying not to cry again. The man standing before her was all she had ever wanted, until now. It's hard to want someone so badly and realize they're not who you think they are. It's even harder to say goodbye to your only shot at happiness. She took a deep breath and went on: "I hid many things from you, but I only omitted what I did, not who I am."

He took a few steps towards her. "I am Matt. I'm the guy who kept your balloon, I'm the guy who swore to keep you safe, twice. 'Daredevil' is not who I am, it's a means to keep you and this city safe."

"That may be what you want it to be, but you'll lose yourself in it."

He gave her a weak smile. "What happened to the woman who believed in the Man in the Mask and defended him?"

She still admired that man. She still thought he was good and useful and vital to Hell's Kitchen. "I am questioning what you do as him. I'm not blaming Daredevil. I'm blaming Matt for his poor decisions."

He let the words sink in and he couldn't deny that. He had screwed up, and there was no turning back. "I'm sorry, Karen," he said.

She took off one of her gloves and let her fingers hover his cheek as if to remember his warmth. "Me too, Matthew."

She turned her back on him and headed to the stairs when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"The things we do to survive do not define us," Matt said. "Just... please, remember that."

She suppressed a sob and left the rooftop and its lights and its tears. She had come to find help and she was left with a hole in her chest.

She rushed downstairs as one tries to wake up from a nightmare. When she opened the door, darkness welcomed her and she felt her body hitting the cold ground. A far-off and familiar voice was rising from the shadows, soothing her with danger. "You're now ripe for the picking, Kare."

Looks like the girl who was trouble was now in trouble.


	9. The Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Karen's discovery is not peaceful at all, neither for Karen, not for Matt.

Blackness. A nagging pain. Her heart beating in her temples. Everything hurt. She winced and tried to bring her hands to her aching forehead, but she couldn't move her arms. Her eyes flitted open and she was hit by a dim, white light. For a few seconds, she couldn't see anything but this white screen of pain. She narrowed her eyes and tried to focus on the gray shadows standing behind the whiteness, and soon, she saw a table, an empty chair. The walls, the lack of natural light, it all looked familiar. Way too familiar.

"Not... again..." she sighed with difficulty.

A feminine voice emerged from behind her. "Oh, you're awake, finally!"

The owner of the voice sat across the table and Karen didn't need any more light to make out her face. She almost wished she was dead.

"Don't give me that look," the voice continued, "you won't even have a bump on your head, lucky girl."

Karen closed her eyes and shook her head. "What the hell is going on, Lorelei?" she asked, tired.

Lorelei grinned. "I just wanted you all for myself. Don't you think we deserve some time together to catch up on all those years?"

Karen peered into Lorelei's eyes and flashed her a dangerous smile. "No," she hissed.

Lorelei pouted and tilted her head to the side. "Too bad, 'cause you're here, tied to that chair, and I'm there, sitting across the table, and I definitely won't put a gun on said table."

She knew it all, as Karen suspected. She knew about Wesley. In the shadows of a dull storehouse, things would perhaps come to light. "Why abducting me if you just wanted to talk?" Karen inquired. "I'm not stupid."

"And that's exactly why you're here." Lorelei left the chair and sat on the edge of the table, right in front of her old friend. "See," she added, "I was simply following you tonight. To get some information. Eventually I was asked to knock you out and bring you here. But I waited and I'm glad I did. Now I know you were meeting a very interesting guy on that rooftop. I also know it was Daredevil and now, thanks to you, we're gonna be able to meet him ourselves. You turned out to be quite useful after all."

Karen frowned. "You didn't come to Foggy and Matt for help, you wanted to frame Daredevil from the beginning?" she asked, puzzled.

The redhead chuckled. "All this time you thought I was coming after you, while you were only a means to an end." She tucked a strand of Karen's hair behind her ear and Karen quivered under her touch, disgusted and furious. "But I'm happy to see you've finally found your place," Lorelei continued. "These guys actually care about you. But I don't know what he sees in you." Lorelei burst into laughing and sighed. "Or rather what he  _guesses_ ," she corrected, "but I know Matt feels something for his innocent-looking secretary. I also happen to be friends with an old friend of his, in case you wanna know some tips. She told me he was hot. She was right, as usual. I owe her 50 bucks."

"What do you want from him?" Karen fumed.

"Oh, you're not even curious about my friend?"

She clenched her jaw and she felt her whole body tense because of her growing anger. "I don't give a shit about your friend," she muttered. "I care about mine. Now what the hell are you up to?"

Lorelei welcomed Karen's question with a devious smile and she stood up without a word. Suddenly, Karen felt a hot breath licking the back of her left ear and she stiffened. "That's kinda rude, Karen. I thought we could be friends," the breath let out.

Suddenly, the breath turned into a woman and stood on her left side. Karen looked up and her eyes had her enthralled for a few seconds. She couldn't describe their color. It was like emerald and copper were dancing around her pupils, under her thick, black lashes. Long, luscious coal-black hair framed her face and a red scarf covered the top of her head.

"Who are you?" Karen let out, amazed by the newcomer.

"Oh, you're interested now?" the woman jested. "Elektra's the name, nice to meet you, even though the circumstances can seem a bit... unconventional."

"You... You're the one who... knows Matt?"

"If I _know_ him?" Elektra chuckled. "We used to  _date._  In Columbia. Didn't work out. But damn, he was hot, I guess he still is. What do you think, Karen?"

"Want a straight answer?"

Elektra nodded. "Yes, please, I like my answers straight."

"I think you're a crazy psycho-bitch," Karen admitted.

Elektra's face was hard to guess. She didn't let anything show, and when she did, you had no way of knowing whether she was being honest or not. It was all a game, and she only knew the cards. "What a foul mouth you have!" she finally giggled. "I like it. You're definitely a match."

Karen shook her head, utterly lost. "What does all of this mean?" she asked. "What do you want from me?"

Elektra took Lorelei's place on the table and fished out what Karen referred to as a "pointed stick." She fidgeted it, made it dance on her fingers. "See," she began, "a friend of mine has gone missing for quite some time now. Daredevil knows Hell's Kitchen like no one else, so I figured he could help me find him."

"I still don't understand why you need  _me_  to do that. Couldn't you just go to him like a big girl?"

Elektra smiled. "I'm pretty sure he won't answer my calls. Oh, wait, I don't have his number." She sighed and stared at her weapon, a feather of steel on her agile hand. "Nobody can reach him," she added. "Only  _you_ , my dear Karen. The guy must have a soft spot for you."

Karen gulped, the image of Matt's face revealing itself as she took off his mask flashing before her reddened eyes."I don't know what you're talking about," she quavered.

"Love is blind, they say," Elektra mused, her eyes set on Karen's face. She was studying her, scanning every inch of her skin, from her chin to the crown of her hair, and the young woman couldn't help but shiver at her piercing look. "Two men though, Karen," Elektra teased. "A bit greedy, aren't you?"

Karen bit the inside of her cheek and wished she could make that smug smile of hers go away. Elektra sighed heavily and lowered her upper body so as to face her captive. "I  _chose_ you," she said. "We need you to lead us to your masked boyfriend. You wouldn't be a bait. You would be a part of this team."

"So now what, I'm the chosen one?" Karen scoffed. "What is this, Harry fucking Potter?"

All of a sudden, she felt the sharp tip of Elektra's dagger on her cheek and she froze. The blade was pressed against her flesh, threatening to tear it open anytime. "You'll soon learn that you don't get to fuck with me," Elektra warned. "I'm getting really tired of your rudeness, so show me some respect or Lorelei will have to tell Matt that his girlfriend is no longer among us."

Karen nodded. Now was not the time to be reckless. Elektra pulled back her dagger and caressed Karen's cheek, a smile cracking her face. "You're here because I need a third part to this little group," she said. "I met Lorelei last year in Japan, where I work."

"I was on a holiday on my own," Lorelei explained. "I didn't what to do with my life and Elektra gave me a purpose."

"I wanna do the same for you."

Karen frowned. "So all of this... it's for charity? Because you care about me?"

"Let's say I think we could work well together. Lorelei told me about your high school boyfriend. How you shot him. And I heard about Wesley, of course. You're strong. Fierce. Feisty, even. And you're not afraid to kill if you have to."

Karen gulped and closed her eyes as Wesley's look emerged from the shadows of her mind. Flames and poppies danced under her eyelids and she couldn't imagine what would become of her if she were to take a life again. Elektra's voice broke her off from her fearful thoughts.

"I need you to join us and be undercover for a while," Elektra told her. "Maybe your lawyer friends know something. After all, Daredevil and the three of you had an enemy in common."

"Fisk," Karen let out. "You think we worked with Daredevil?"

"Didn't you?"

"That's not how it works. Daredevil shows up when he needs you."

Elektra grinned. "That's what I'm counting on."

Karen looked away, her mind tainted by doubts. She couldn't risk Matt's life, even though he was perfectly able to defend himself. "Even if I could, I would never, ever lead you to him," she spat.

The smile on Elektra's face widened. "That's what you don't seem to grasp, honey. You wouldn't lead Lorelei and I to him. You would lead  _us three_  to him. Besides, I just wanna talk, that's all." She stood up and positioned herself behind Karen. "Don't you wanna be a part of something, Karen?" she whispered in her ear. "What's it gonna be? Do you wanna spend the rest of your life on your knees, waiting for a man in red to come and rescue you, or do you wanna take your destiny into your own hands and join us?"

"Do I have a choice?" Karen deadpanned.

"You always have a choice."

The young woman chuckled darkly. "That's why my hands are tied up in my back, right?"

Elektra took her dagger and cut off Karen's bounds. "You can leave now if you want," she said. "You can go back to your miserable life, be your miserable self. But there's a fire in you, Karen. The same fire that I feel inside me. You have the power to be much more. It'd be a waste to walk out that door. For us, but above all, for you."

Karen massaged her wrist and stared into Elektra's amber eyes. She had come to Daredevil to save Matt and Foggy. Turned out Matt didn't need saving. Neither did Foggy, Daredevil being his best friend and all. Her world had fallen apart with Matt's revelation. The new life she had slowly built had crumbled down. It was all based on lies and deception, both from Matt's part and hers. Maybe her life was finally about to start. She didn't owe anything to anyone but herself. She had to stop thinking about Matt and Foggy. She was sick and tired of being the one left in the dark, the one the hero saved. She wasn't weak, but the circumstances made her feel powerless, and wherever she went, death followed. Maybe they would be better off without her. Maybe she would be better off on her own.

"I'm in," she finally said. "Who will I be working for?"

Elektra smirked and the words poured from her full lips like tasteful poison. "The Hand."

 

* * *

 

"Matt, I can't believe I'm about to say that, but will you please calm down?"

Matt's apartment was a mess of shattered glass. Foggy had found shelter on the couch, his feet safely gathered up under him.

"How do you want me to calm down? She  _knows_!" Matt screamed. Foggy could count the times he had heard Matt scream on one hand. "I never wanted this to happen, I was always careful not to give anything away, I've lied to her and now she knows because  _I_  told her to take off my mask!" He rested his hands on the counter and bit his lower lip. "I can't believe I was that stupid."

Foggy sighed and gave him a weak smile. "You're not stupid, you're in love Matthew."

"Isn't that the same thing?" his friend deadpanned.

"Don't you sass me," Foggy replied with an offended look. "Listen, you did what you thought was right. And I'm glad you did it, she deserved to know the truth. It was about time buddy."

Matt hung his head."And now she hates me," he let out.

"Come on, she couldn't hate you even if she wanted to. She just needs some time to calm down. I needed time to, and now we're good again."

"It's not the same."

Foggy smirked. "Because you're not in love with me?" he cooed.

"Stop using those words, Foggy," Matt sighed.

His friend arched a brow. "Because that's not what it is? Stop being so stubborn and come clean about how you feel about her!"

Matt gulped, the events of the night too painful to name. But her words rang in the air, her voice clung to his eardrums. "She..." he quavered. He cleared his throat and raised his head, trying to look as strong as he was supposed to be. "She told me she could've loved me." He shook his head and scoffed, all that could have been suddenly fading into the flames of his eyes. "There's no turning back, Foggy. It's never gonna be the same. I screwed up." "Why are you smiling?"

Foggy frowned. "How do you..."

"The sound of the corners of your mouth lifting and your teeth-"

"Nevermind," Foggy replied. "It's just that I've never seen you so concerned by a chick. Matt Murdock does have a heart after all."

"Did you doubt it?"

"Man, you've always had trouble with irony," Foggy laughed. "For real though, even with... er, what was her name again? The Greek girl?"

Matt smiled softly. "Elektra."

"That's the one," Foggy answered, pointing the finger in front of him. You were really hooked up on her back in the days, even though you never talked about her."

Matt winced, a hand on his forehead. "It's... It was complicated. And now it's complicated with Karen. I'm a guy parading around in a red suit, beating up criminals. I'm not..."

Foggy rolled his eyes. "If you say that love is not for you one more fucking time, I will punch you in the face, Daredevil or not."

Matt pouted and lifted his hand in surrender.

"Stop over thinking this," Foggy continued. "Give her time. And if you don't feel like using the L word, that's fine. Just... don't give up on her just yet. If you can put Fisk behind bars, you can fix things with Karen and you can find the courage to tell her how you feel."

"I'd rather fight Fisk again," Matt scoffed.

"I know, but Karen is much hotter than Fisk, believe me."

The feeling of her features on his skin still lingered on his fingertips, and he wished his eyes could gaze at her face, her curves. He wished he could see her. People often asked him what he missed most. He had grown used to the flames, but he would have given anything to see the sky one more time. He missed the blue, the white, the gray, but above all, the shades of pink, the ribbons of red that stretch on the sky in the evening, when the sun surrenders to the moon. He missed the way the streets of Hell's Kitchen engulfed the sun rays. He often thought of the sky when he tried to relax, especially at night, before going to sleep. The sky was a symbol of beauty and faith. He believed someone was watching over him, even more so since the death of his father. But he couldn't look up and find solace in the immensity of the blue anymore. He was still mourning the colors of the sky. But at this very moment, in his apartment, his home, he would have sold his soul to the Devil to see Karen's face. He kept telling himself that it didn't matter, that he could see her differently, that her soul met his disabled eyes, but he couldn't fool himself. He was dying to dive into her irises, see her cheeks flush when she was embarrassed or angry, study the shades of her hair color. He wished he could draw her curves, guess the shape of her breasts under her clothes, peer at the lines of her neck. But he could never see her. All of her was eaten up by the fire of his eyelids. Her silhouette was bound to remain in the darkness of his sins... and hers.

"I just hope she's all right," he said.

Foggy drew in a deep breath, concern etching his face. "You're referring to the Wesley thing now, aren't you?"

Matt nodded. "She killed a man. There are some things you never come back from."

"I... It doesn't make her a terrible person, does it? I mean, I'm not saying it was right, but... It's Karen we're talking about. She's a decent person. It was self defense."

"It wasn't. Not exactly." Matt sat on the coffee table, in front of Foggy. "The good catholic boy in me wants to think that she's sinned, that she's going straight to hell. But the man... the man can't imagine a world in which Wesley is alive and Karen's six feet under."

Foggy bowed his head. "You're glad she did it."

"I'm not glad she had to come to this. All I know is that I can't hold it against her. She needed to survive. I've been confronted to this situation many times."

His friend nodded silently. He felt guilty. Karen had tried to tell him about Wesley when they had talked in the graveyard. He hadn't been careful enough. Of course it didn't matter. She had killed a bad guy. Maybe it was stupid of him, maybe it was wrong, but he couldn't judge her, he couldn't even begin to think she had become a monster. "Let's worry about our empty stomachs," he cheered after a few seconds of heavy silence, "for a change. Wanna order some food?"

His words earned a tiny smile from Matt. "You've got your priorities sorted."

"Don't tell me you wanna play it emo and and starve to death in the dark until you hear from her?"

Matt tilted his head to the side. "I'm already in the dark, Foggy."

"Dammit," his friend giggled.

They both laughed heartily, and Foggy was relieved to see his friend relax a little. He had spent a rough night, and he was about to face a rough few days. Three heavy knocks on the door stopped them abruptly.

"Who's that?" Foggy asked. "It's 2 am, does Daredevil take appointments or...?"

"I'll get it," Matt said, confused.

And there it was. A sweet fragrance he knew all too well. He opened the door swiftly and frowned. "Karen?" he said.

She stared at him in silence and then rushed in, her voice tainted by concern. "We've got a problem."


	10. The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen comes to Matt and Foggy to tell them all about their new friend.

“What do you mean you're part of a Japanese organization?”

Foggy's head hurt and he couldn't shut his mouth. None of it made sense. When Karen had burst into the room, going on about how she just had been recruited by that Greek girl from college, he had immediately understood they wouldn't eat anytime soon, and hunger and incomprehension didn't exactly get along in him.   
Karen sighed. “I told them I was in, but I'm not. Not really.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really think I would've betrayed you?”  
Foggy heaved a sigh and sat down next to her. “No. No, of course not.” He looked up at Matt who was standing before them. He hadn't said a word since Karen came in. “Matt? You're okay?” he softly asked.  
The young man slightly shook his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He turned to Karen. “You really need to be careful, Karen, the Hand is filled with... ruthless people.”  
“You know them?” she inquired.  
“Stick had told me about them a little bit. They're as violent as the Yakuza, as trained, but they hold... strange beliefs.”  
“In other words, they're batshit crazy,” Foggy deadpanned.  
She silently nodded and put her hands on her knees. A painful silence filled the room once more. Karen stared at her feet, Matt gulped and Foggy sighed.

“Okay, let's cut the crap,” the latter suddenly blurted out as he stood up, “we need to talk about Elektra.”  
Matt winced. “Foggy-”  
“It's not personal, I mean it kinda is, but she's the mastermind here! She may be working for the Hand but she's leading the operations and she had Karen kidnapped for fuck's sake!”

Matt clenched his fist and his heart skipped a beat. She did kidnap Karen. The thought made him shiver. Had he known about this earlier, he would have been worried sick, fearing for Karen's life, and so angry at Elektra. Angry at himself, too. All this anger was meaningful: whenever he thought of Elektra, his rage was too vivid, his wound too fresh to be a simple scar. He wasn't in love with her anymore, this he knew, but he felt resentful, bitter. She still had an impact on him, and now she was threatening Karen. This had to stop.

“If she wants to meet him, he'll meet her,” he said as he slightly gritted his teeth.  
Foggy shook his head. “Matt, you can't-”  
He shook his head. “I can, and I will. She won't hurt me, she needs help.”  
Foggy's jaw dropped. He brought his hands to his head. “You really wanna help the villain?”  
Matt sighed. “She's not- I wanna know what happened to her.”  
Karen gave him a dark smile and chuckled. “So it is personal.”  
For some reason, he could feel his blood boil into his veins. Something snapped inside of him. “Yes, Karen,” he said, “I wanna know how the girl I was in love with ended up working for those dangerous assholes, and I don't see why you should have any say in that.”  
Foggy frowned. “You said...”  
“Don't, Foggy. It's none of your business, so let me handle this and please, stay away.”

He heard Karen gulp. He smelled her pain. She was tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes set on the floor. She always did that when she was hurt. And he hated the idea that he, of all people, had caused this reaction.  
“Karen-” he began before she silently stopped him, her palm raised before his face. “I'm sorry,” he continued nonetheless, his voice weak and soft.   
“So am I,” she simply answered, and his heart broke. She collected her purse and coat, headed to the door but stopped at the threshold, one of her hands on the door frame, her back turned to him. “Be careful, please,” she let out, a tremor in her voice. 

He wanted to reach out to her, to take this hand that was clinging to the door frame, but as he motioned to touch her, she left in a heartbeat. 

“Well done, Matt,” Foggy told him before heading out.

He heard him shut the door, and he was left alone with his regrets. What was it that urged him to push away the people he loved the most? What was it that kept him from letting them in completely? Karen knew now. There was nothing left for him to hide, was it?   
He grunted and walked to the fridge. A nice cool beer wouldn't solve his problems, but it would make them easier to bear. 

“Hello, Matthew.”

It was a voice he knew all too well. Its tones clung to his pores and stole his breath away with only two words uttered with an expected playfulness. He shut the fridge and turned to the voice.

“Long time no see,” she added.  
“Funny as ever,” Matt deadpanned. His body tensed and he could feel his veins pulse against the fabric of his shirt. “What do you want, Elektra?”  
She scoffed and took the beer from his hand. “Is that it? You haven't seen me in ten years and all you want to know is what I want from you?” She took a sip from the bottle and chuckled. “Disgusting.”  
Matt sighed and rubbed his forehead. “No small talk. How did you find me?”  
She walked toward him, slowly, oh so slowly, like a snake crawling over to its prey. “Still bitter over our break-up?” she asked, her voice like sweet venom. “Or maybe you just want to go back to, what's her name again, Karen?”   
The name caught his breath and he gulped.   
“She's quite feisty that one,” she continued, a sparkle in the eye. “I see a pattern here, Matthew.”  
He could feel her wink blowing air on his face like a butterfly flutter. “Leave her out of this,” he threatened.  
She chuckled darkly, her teeth shining in the dim, yellowish light of Matt's apartment. “A bit late to go all Prince charming, don't you think? You couldn't even protect her when she needed you the most.”   
Matt gulped. His fists clenched on their own, more out of fear than of anger. He waited, but expected her words.   
“I know about Wesley,” she finally let out, a smile in her voice. It infuriated him, the way she had to be so detached from everything.   
“How?” he asked, confused.   
She put her hand on his shoulder and he shivered. He remembered the touch of her skin against his own flesh... Ten years... How time flies. How wounds turns to scars. How scars are so easily reopened. “I have my sources,” she said.  
Matt shook away from her touch and returned behind the counter, feeling the need to hide behind a wall, to get far way from her. “You still haven't answered me. How did you find me?” he barked.   
Elektra pouted and rolled her eyes. She had expected another welcoming. But then again, she did leave him without warning ten years ago. “I followed your precious Karen, duh. I wasn't sure you were the infamous Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but I'd recognize this building anywhere.”  
“And what do you want from me?”  
No small talk it was. “I'm looking for Nobu,” she admitted, very seriously. All trace of banter had disappeared from her voice. It sounded like steel. “He's gone missing for a while now,” she added.  
Nobu. The flames. The killing. He hadn't killed him, the fire had, he had killed himself. That's what Matt loved to tell himself, but had had spent nights wondering whether he had crossed the line or not. He cleared his throat and put both hand on the counter and tilted his head to the side, a smug smile on his face. “And why would I know anything about this?”  
Elektra crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, her lips stretched into a devilish smile. “You're the vigilante here, aren't you?”  
He shrugged. “I'm doing what I can.”  
“Come on, I can see your halo, all gold and sparkles,” she said as she pointed the top of his head, staring at the void above it.   
“Halo or fork, even I can't really decide,” he quipped.   
Elektra's smile vanished progressively, leaving her face and going God knows where, outside of the apartment, away into the night. “Please, Matt,” she almost begged, very seriously this time, “I was sent to find Nobu. Don't make it hard for me. For old time's sake?”  
Old time's sake? Old sorrow's sake would have been more appropriate. She had abducted the scumbag who had killed his father. She had tied him up to a chair. She had forced him to beat the guy to death. He could remember the scene so clearly, so painstakingly clearly, the blood on his hands and the sound of her laughter. And then, as he was calling the police, shaken by Elektra's cold-blooded scheme, she had fled. And she had never reached back. Until this night.  
“I don't know where he is,” he lied. “I'm sorry.” This one wasn't a lie.   
Elektra heaved a sigh and sat on the couch. She buried her face into her hands. “If I don't find him,” she said, “there's going to be a war, Matthew. And I'm sure you don't want to cause a war, do you?”  
A war was the last thing Hell's Kitchen needed. “What are you talking about?”  
“The Yakuza. They're still here, in Hell's Kitchen. You didn't get rid of them. The Hand think the Yakuza took Nobu. We know that they want something from us, something that we're the only ones to possess. We figured they were holding him captive in order to obtain it, but this option doesn't really make sense because they never reached out. No bargain, no blackmail, nothing. If I don't find Nobu, war will be upon us all.”  
Matt frowned, failing to understand. “Why? What war?”  
Elektra bit her lower lip, opened her mouth, then closed it, words dying on her tongue. She had tried to figure out the right way of explaining the situation to him, then she had decided she wouldn't tell him anything. A part of her was counting on her charms, certain Matt wouldn't have moved on. The other part of her, the vulnerable one, perfectly knew that she was fooling herself. She hadn't moved on, and despite the mask she had put on her face, she still cared about the nerd who had turned into the Demon.   
She got up and paced around the living room, alternatively staring at the purple light of the signs and the dark of the room. “Nobu...” she finally let out, her eyes set on the floor. “The Yakuza and the Hand will butcher each other if the former took Nobu. The Hand won't surrender.”   
“This is rather good news,” he deadpanned.  
She tilted her head to the side. “Is it? I thought Daredevil didn't kill people?” She saw him pout, his lips forming a crescent. She had missed that pout. “Plus,” she added, “many innocent lives will be taken in the process. Believe it or not, there are many more industries blinding people in order to get them to work. The Yakuza are very creative and they know how to lay low.”

He was at the crossfire, caught up between the will to help her and the pleasure he took in picturing two of the most dangerous criminal groups of all killing each other, doing the job in his place. He told himself he wanted nothing but to keep his city safe, that he wouldn't do this for Elektra but for Hell's Kitchen, but deep down, he knew she still had this power over him. He liked to tell himself he had gotten over this, over her, ten years had gone by after all. But had he? Why did he feel concerned by her involvement in the Hand? Why did he even care?  
He shook off the thought. If Elektra was right, and if she was telling him the truth, they were on the verge of war. Daredevil had to step in, for Hell's Kitchen, for Foggy... for Karen.

“If I help you, no one dies, got it?” he said.  
She sighed and smirked. “I can't promise not to kill anyone, Matthew.”  
“Then I can't help you.” He took a step backward and showed her the door.   
Elektra's smile vanished and she rolled her eyes. “Wait!” She sighed. “I'll do my best. Now, will you help me stop this war before it begins or not?”

Did he really have a choice? Hadn't he sworn to protect Hell's Kitchen? The devil has made a bargain, and he had to keep it. How ironic. “First,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “tell me why you even tried to enroll Karen.”  
She rolled her eyes. “I knew she would never betray whoever this Daredevil was,” she sighed. “I suspected you were him, but I wasn't sure. So I thought that if I proposed her a job, she would go straight to Daredevil to warn him. It was a risky bet, but it paid off. When she went to you, I understood.” She suddenly burst out laughing, her eyes twinkling with malice. “But to be fair,” she added, “I just wanted to have a bit of fun.”  
Matt rubbed his forehead, tired. What had he done to deserve this? Was it God punishing him for his sins? He had to fix things with Karen, and he couldn't do this with Elektra around. Something was telling him there were stormy seas ahead.   
“I'll help you,” he finally said, “but I don't want you anywhere near her.”  
She smirked. “Are you afraid she'd be jealous of me?”  
“I'm afraid she'd kill you,” Matt laughed.  
Elektra arched her eyebrows, the smile on her face reaching for her ears. “You definitely have a type, Matthew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. I am a very busy person and I had lost motivation... It came back all at once when Daredevil graced our screens again. So here it is, I hope you'll like it!
> 
> And before you say anything, this fic is still Karedevil-centric, but I need to write about Elektra because he had a huge impact on Matt on the show. So don't worry about her :) Plus she's such an awesome character and very fun to write!


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